


Drop Dead, Gorgeous

by Ashida



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Crack, Fashion & Couture, Fashion Your Seatbelts!, M/M, Modeling, Porn, Run way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3799822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/pseuds/Ashida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If god wears Gucci, and the devil wears Prada, then what does a crime lord wear? </p><p>He wears Abyss. Or so a certain designer thinks he should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fashion Your Seat Belts!

**Author's Note:**

> For absalon95 on fanficiton.net who threw a link for clothing at me when I first started writing Midnight Kid, and then I came up with this…

“Feilong!” Takaba Akihito hollered to his assistant outside his studio office. “Do I have any more appointments today?”

 

 _“Akihito san, you really should just use the intercom.”_ The soft voice called through the phone’s speaker on his desk. _“To answer your question, no your schedule is clear for the rest of the day.”_

 

“So that means I have no portfolios to go over, no models to look at?” Akihito deadpanned his questions in frustration as he used the intercom properly. He hadn’t found anyone suitable, yet.

 

_“No, the one that just left was the last.”_

He didn’t need to use the communication system for Feilong to know he was sighing, how annoying.

 

Akihito had gone through nearly every male model worth looking at in Japan, and still hadn’t found anyone near close enough to showcase his very first line of formal wear.

 

Feilong was insistent that he was being fussy for someone who was branching into a new area – Akihito’s main focus for years was his casual clothing line, he liked nothing more than comfortable slouch jeans with rips and shreds for attitude, and faded t-shirts with daring necklines that said the wearer gave no fucks.

 

But he wanted his label, Abyss, to expand into more than that.

 

There was something alluring, and awe inspiring about a perfectly fitted suit, but Akihito had the feeling his new line could incite so much more, a sense of power and pride, mother fucking swagger on legs is what he had in mind.

 

He envisioned a suit that demanded everyone’s attention; it gave the wearer that assertive air that translated into general badassery.  

 

In short, his new line of suits was the high-class version of giving no fucks - censored if you will.

 

Akihito could tailor each piece into art sculpted on the body, could give poise to someone’s frame, length to the leg and a strong line to the shoulder - then there was the taper down from shoulder width down to the waist that gave the person over all standing and presence. Plus that taper when done right was enough to give him a hard on.

 

Akihito would make his suits so that even if you cut the goddam sleeves off, ripped the pockets or wore a chain from the belt loop, you could still fucking rock that shit in the presence of the queen.

 

There was nothing sexier in his mind, than a wicked upturned collar with no tie and a nice jacket, and he’d made some insane collars to pop, ones that looked utterly devilish, ones that framed the neck and face in acute lines that drew observers vision right to the head.

 

Fuck yeah. It’d been a long time since he was this excited over his own designs.

 

That was if only he could find the right fucking model.

 

Which brought him slamming back to what Feilong had just said; he’d just sent the last one packing because he just didn’t have what Akihito was looking for. No one did.

 

Sure, all the models were disgustingly attractive, with chiseled bodies and jawlines like a gift from god, they’d all done formal wear before – but not one of them had the _thing_ he was looking for. _The thing._

 

In short, they were all thick as a fucking post, well maybe that was being too harsh, but none of them seemed to get his motivation behind his first line of suits.

 

So they could all go eat a dick.

 

Unfortunately it didn’t give him any further options, dammit.

 

“Argh!” he barked in his office, it echoed off the concrete walls of the studio in Harajuku, above a quirky coffee shop was where his annoyingly proficient assistant Feilong, managed the clients and visitors at the front desk.

 

Further down the hall that came direct off the stairs; was his design and tailor room, full of adjustable mannequins, sewing machines, tape measures, fabrics, drawing boards, current projects and awards. It was a chaotic mess in there, but it worked for him. Attached directly to that was his office.

 

Throw in a room for him to crash when he overworked, a bathroom and a kitchenette, and that made up the Abyss design headquarters.

 

It was cozy and quaint with its cream colored paint over exposed brick work, the floor was polished concrete, and the ceilings were high with sky lights and windows that let the light in no matter what time of day. He fucking cherished this place.

 

There was no need for him to have one of those snooty, clean edged places in Shinjuku or Shibuya, the ones with the uncomfortable furniture and sterile atmosphere, fuck that.

 

_“Oh, there is that design gala that you received an invitation to-“_

“No.”

 

_“Akihito –_

“No. You know how I feel about those things, Fei.” He cut in over the comm, Akihito stayed away from gatherings of any kind, he never felt the need to attend, his work spoke for itself, and occasions like that were always _so_ fucking exhausting. He wasn’t exactly a recluse; but spending an evening with too many people and pretending to be normal wasn’t his idea of a jolly ol’ time.

 

So unless he had his own catwalk to run – the chances of seeing Takaba Akihito at any such thing were slim to not a damn chance.

 

“Really, it wouldn’t kill you to go to one every now and then, you know, to show people you haven’t in fact keeled over.” Feilong appeared at the door of his office, and leant on the frame in a way that was way too obnoxious for an assistant.

 

“I released a preview of the new line a few days ago, Fei. People know I’m not dead.” Akihito said offhandedly as he got his things together.

 

“Come on, Akihito.” Feilong insisted with a huff, because Akihito knew that even if he didn’t like going to those things, Feilong did. He was a social butterfly, and he handled the label’s publicity perfectly, helped make good connections with his allure and charm, and didn’t take any garbage from difficult clients.

 

Plus, he was insanely beautiful in his trademark all black clothing that Akihito designed for him only, he turned heads, and on more than one irksome occasion people had mistaken Feilong as the designer until the correction was made.  
He was a good person to have as his front man though, impeccable taste and dress sense; Akihito had to admit that Feilong presented himself a lot better than he did. He was pretty scruffy, for a fashion designer. Just because he designed suits; doesn’t mean he liked wearing them.

 

But the partnership they had just worked, Feilong put up with his introvertedness, brought him the right coffee everyday – a triple shot long black - woke him up when he slept in, drove him about the city, so he supposed he could humor his assistant this one time, he wasn’t a complete bastard after all.

 

“Alright, but I’m not getting changed!” Akihito assured, he looked down at what he was wearing – he was looking swish today, actually.

 

Feilong never cared though, Akihito was known for his rough dress sense, so his assistant lit up like a damn Christmas tree on fire, and rushed to shut the office down for the night.

 

Akihito finished packing his laptop and designs away, grumbling all the while. Oh well, maybe he could find a model there that he hadn’t seen yet.

 

He didn’t fancy his chances.

 

*****

 

 


	2. Turbo Swag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check the links out that are in the chapter guys…

Man, this already sucked big time, he should have known people would actually _talk_ to him since it’d been so long that he’d attended anything at all, coupled with the news of his new collection – and he hadn’t had a moment to himself in hours. _Hours._ The fucking outrage of it all.

What more did these people want from him? Did they want to know what label his underwear was too? Well, it was Hugo Boss but he wasn’t about to tell them even if they asked.

 

Maybe one day he’d wear Transformers underwear, or Superman ones, and then he’d show them all just to see the looks on their faces. Maybe even start a new trend.

 

Food. At least there was plenty of that. He literally gave zero shits if people judged him for the amount of food he put down at these things. Free food was free food, dude!

 

As usual, everyone was in their suits or formal dress, some more dressed up than others, it made no difference to him what the dress code was.   
He was perfectly [happy in his jeans and casual shirt](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=154294489). OK, he’d spiffed up a little with a nice black cuff watch and a hella dope skull ring that he had at the studio, but that was about as far as he went.

 

Feilong insisted on rushing home to get changed though - so Akihito waited around there instead of going back to his dinky loft in Shinjuku, but even Fei wasn’t as dressed up as everyone else. Black slacks and a [black one button blazer with leather lapels](http://www.polyvore.com/untitled/set?id=154418845) coupled with a v-neck underneath was today’s choice, and Akihito had to admit he looked better than most anyway. The pretty bastard.   
Still, he was proud to have an assistant that looked better than a fair amount of models in the room in his designs, he’d thought about using Feilong to model his latest range, but Feilong protested, a lot. He already had enough work on his hands without Akihito giving him more.

 

That brought him back to his current pickle, he was still lacking an icon to represent him, so it might have explained why he was now avoiding people and stalking around the edges of the rooms to stare a little too intently at people.

 

His assistant took the brunt of the questions now, and apologized for his boss’s aloofness while he was at it no doubt, it was always better coming from Feilong anyway, who could sugar coat everything and have people melting from his appeal and forgetting all about the fact that Akihito had declined their dinner invitation, or refused an award because he simply didn’t want to be there to receive it.

 

Feilong was still having fun, he was cunning, and Akihito knew he liked wrapping people around his finger, it was a perfect set up, actually.

 

Akihito was free to roam, he looked at the design briefs from some of the other stylists that he admired, as usual Mikhail’s stood out to him more than the rest, Mikhail’s label, Mafioso, was one of Akihito’s favorites, and comprised a lot of his wardrobe. So of course Akihito had to go and have a nosy to see what was in his up coming collections.

 

“Well look who crawled out from under his rock in Harajuku.” Sure enough the Russian designer made a beeline for him – and Akihito was surprised it took this many hours for them to actually find each other in this mess of people.   
Mikhail was probably busy banging someone in the toilets, that’s why. His own similar memories made him cringe, that was something that just would just…. have never worked out, even if he still thought about the sex when he was in the shower.

 

“Oh, look who’s emerged with a new STD.” Akihito mocked, because he _knew_ Mikhail’s post sex smile, the man practically glowed and stunk of self-satisfiedness – probably at the fact that he’d made someone lose their voice due to screaming his name.

 

“I know you’re just jealous, when was the last time you had a lay as good as me huh, sweet cheeks?” Mikhail kept up the charade even as they embraced with bro claps on the back for good measure. They might not work as lovers, but as friends they could set the fucking roof on fire.

 

“When I lay down in bed last night.” the smaller designer laughed, he wasn’t very self aware, because people always tended to look at him when he laughed, but he never caught on why.

“Nah!” Mikhail waved it off, “I’m sure you’d have to clean the cobwebs out of your head to actually remember. Heh. Anyway, what are you doin’ here?” they walked side by side to Mikhail’s sectioned off area where people were browsing through catalogues and photographs.

 

“Feilong convinced me to come along.” He flat toned back, “I thought I might find a someone I could use, but I thought I’d check your new stuff out first.”

 

“Akihito. Did you not get my email, I sent you the preview through weeks ago.” Mikhail sighed back to him, exasperated.

 

“Huh? No?” he took his phone out at that, and looked through his personal email folder, sure enough there was an unopened file from Mikhail that he’d probably forgotten about, along with quite a few others. “Whoops.”

 

“Seriously, are you ok in your own little world there?”

 

“Ah- hey, don’t!” Akihito startled as Mikhail flicked him on the forehead.

 

“I don’t know why I ever bothered with you, oh that’s right, because you never made an effort! Jeez.” The broad shouldered Russian ran his hand through his unruly blonde hair. “How you manage to succeed I don’t know.”

 

“S-shut up! I’m not having this talk with you again. Are you gonna show me your shit now or what?” talking about their relationship never went down well, so he changed topic.

 

Naturally, Mikhail flashed him a cheeky grin, took his wrist and dragged him along to show him. “I’ve got a few things I think you could totally work, I’ll show ya!”

 

The pair went over his new winter catalogue that was due for public release in stores over the next few months, and Akihito found more than a few things that he wouldn’t mind adding to his wardrobe. Mikhail promised to tailor them for him personally, in exchange for some of Akihito’s designs made to fit him too, they talked about his new formal wear and his difficulty finding a model and everything in between, he knew Mikhail was closing in on him, hoping to drag him back to his apartment, but it was pretty easy to tune out the flirting and just talk with the dude by now though.

 

Akihito had lost track of time by the time Feilong tapped him on the shoulder with a polite cough to interrupt, and then Akihito realized how fucking late it was!

 

“Akihito san, don’t forget you have that early appointment with the publicist tomorrow morning.” His assistant reminded him of how early he had to get up.

 

“Fuck, shit. That’s right.” In the end he hadn’t done much searching for the right person, and now it was probably time to go home, because Feilong knew exactly how late he could stay up before he was in an absolutely foul mood the next day – and it was fast approaching that time.

 

“I’m surprised you stayed this late.” Mikhail looked at his watch, “So, you’re off then? Not gonna stay and party the rounds with me, eh?”

 

“Not a chance.”

 

“Aww, still so cold, Akihito.” Mikhail feigned a pout. To which Akihito just waved off and walked away. “Oi, don’t forget to email me back, you hermit!” came the shout after him.

 

“Yeah, yeah! I’ll get around to it.” He turned back to shout, before making his way to the front entrance to wait as Feilong brought the car around.

 

Multiple cars were pulling into the parking bays to pick up people, and Akihito being the designer he was; couldn’t help but look at what everyone was sporting, funny how he knew the label, but didn’t know half the people actually _wearing_ said clothing. Woops. That was Feilong’s job anyway.

 

Just as his tiredness was beginning to show, his own BMW parked in the bay closest to him, and a black limo followed closely behind to pick up whomever they were here for. Some rich fucker no doubt, not that Akihito wasn’t wealthy.

 

He wasn’t paying that much attention as he opened his own door, because he wasn’t some lazy shit that expected the driver to get out and walk all the way around just to open a fucking door.

 

As he was stepping in, movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention back to the limo that was parked behind him, and even in the darkness he could make out two tall figures – one holding the car door open, and the other who was taller still, but all Akihito saw of him was a flash of gold eyes that brushed over him for a brief second as they surveyed the surroundings.

 

A few seconds was all it’d been before the man ducked into his own vehicle, but that was all it took. That man had the thing. The thing he was looking for but couldn’t explain but he definitely knew it when he saw it and that dude _had it by the truck load._

 

“Oi! Feilong.” Akihito popped his head into the car and looked to the front at his assistant, “Who’s that dude behind us, do you know?”

 

“You honestly don’t know who that is?” Feilong sounded unsurprised though, sardonic even, stupid sassy assistant.

 

“No, or I wouldn’t have asked. Who is he?” Akihito repeated his question, a little sterner because this was not the time for sass at all.

 

“That’s Asami Ryuichi, CEO of Sion Corporation among other things, why?” Feilong didn’t bother to hide his suspicion, because Akihito hardly ever took an interest in who was who.

 

“Because that guy is gonna be the face of the Abyss line of suits.” Akihito said with conviction, though it was a little late because in his ramblings the limo behind him had already pulled away.

 

In the front seat, Feilong pinched his brow in hopelessness, because that was Asami Ryuichi, and what Akihito was thinking was completely out of the question – but he also knew that look on his boss’s face too, the extremely stubborn, almost childlike sheen in his eye that said he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted.

 

“If you say so, Akihito san.” He simply went along with it for now.

 

“I do say so, can you arrange a meeting with him at my soonest free space, Feilong?” Akihito was in the car by now, the vehicle pulled away from the curb, and he found himself staring dazed out the window as he remembered that flash of molten charisma in the man’s gaze.

 

That man, Asami Ryuichi, he definitely was the one he’d been looking for.

 


	3. Turn Down For What

“Oi! Feilong! Did you get me a meeting with that Asami dude yet?” it was Monday morning, and Akihito’s yell down the hallway signified his impatience, his assistant would have had hardly any time to even ring the Sion office to arrange a meeting, but sure as hell he had to ask.

 

Those eyes had stolen most of his attention for the weekend, in truth he didn’t even remember what the man really looked like, just that omnipotent stare and the color contrast of his gold pupils in the darkness of night. Oho yeah, he was _so_ the one.

 

_“Akihito san, please use the intercom, you’re lucky no one is in the waiting room.”_ His assistant sighed through the communication system for what wouldn’t be the last time this week.

 

“Yeah, yeah, they can deal. Answer my damn question.” That cheeky ass assistant was starting already and it was only Monday.

 

_“I haven’t made the call to ‘that Asami dude’s office’ yet.”_ Was the deadpan back, _“Really Akihito san, you can’t refer to someone like him, like that.”_

“I’ll call him what I have to, to get him in my clothing, okay? Make the damn call and let me know.” he snatched his finger back off the buzzer, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying as ending a conversation by hanging up or slamming a door, fucking technology getting in the way of his irritation. He knew Feilong would get right to it after that, anyway. He just had to wait, like five minutes or a century, they were both the same right now.

 

In the mean time he fiddled with a few designs, flicked his pen around in his finger in fake productivity, and just fidgeted his ass off because he wanted to know, god dammit. If there was anyone who could get him an appointment with someone, it was Feilong.

 

Feilong knew that the fact his boss had reached out to someone instead of the other way round meant that it was a big deal, so his assistant would make it happen. He was pretty fucking confident about it, actually.

 

_“… Akihito san, I made the call.”_ Came the blank statement, it could have meant anything from the way he’d said it.

 

“And?!” he had his finger firm on the button, but he was loud enough for Feilong to hear him down the hall anyway. He was out of his seat, leaning over his desk strewn with paper and sketches, a swathe of fabric and tape measures.

 

_“His secretary explained that Asami Ryuchi doesn’t have time to play ‘dress ups’…”_ that blank tone again, meant _not_ to provoke anything, because the words in itself were provoking enough, Feilong _knew_ that his boss was gonna flip his fucking shit.

 

To everyone it would come off from Akihito’s veneer that he didn’t care about his job, that he didn’t utilize his talent and treated it as a means to live comfortably without any responsibilities. He came off as a right ass hole, actually. But it was so far from the truth it had to be shoved up the person’s ass and kept from the light of day for someone to even find it.

 

It was his livelihood, he wanted to see others in _his_ clothing, and for his clothing to give people the confidence he already had.

 

The things he made were a personification of himself, he gave no shits as it was, which is why he acted the way he did, why he didn’t feel the need to dress to the nines or show up to occasions to promote social status.

That meant nothing, all that mattered was how people felt in his clothing, and he hoped it made them as comfortable as he was in his own skin. That was the entire point behind his label.

 

For people to come out and call his heart and soul simple dress ups was just asking for him to rip someone a new one – and not in any fabric either.

 

“Feilong… give me the number.” The words came out barely audible through gritted teeth, he was in his seat now, taking steady breaths trying to calm down. No, he couldn’t ring up and abuse the man’s secretary, that wouldn’t get him anywhere. He really would come off as the stereotypical raging lunatic of a fashion designer then, not that it was far from reality anyway.

 

Woosa, deep mother fucking _soothing_ breaths, Akihito.

 

Maybe a call direct from the label owner would mean a little more, since Asami was an important person or whatever. He should have thought about that from the start. Too late now.

 

_“Promise me you’re not going to be an asshat and I’ll give you the number, I worked hard to get the number to his personal secretary, and not just the main office.”_

“I am capable of human interaction, Feilong.” With pen in hand he was already waiting for his assistant to recite the numbers.

 

Ever dutiful, and offended on his boss’s behalf, the Chinese listed the numbers and gave him the assistants name that had taken the call, Kirishima.

 

“Pfft, sounds like a hoity toity freak who ties his tie way too perfectly.” Akihito sneered, because he was a pretty nasty person when he got riled up.

 

As he dialed the number, Feilong showed up yet again in the doorway to lean on it and watch with a cringe as his boss was probably going to be way too rude to get anywhere.

 

_“Asami Ryuichi’s office, Kirishima speaking.”_ Sounded like a hoity toity piece of shit too.

 

But without the grudge showing in his voice, he spoke up in a cheerful tone that sounded nothing like him, “Hello, Kirishima kun, my name is Takaba Akihito-

 

_“I know who you are, Akihito kun, Asami sama has nothing to gain from working with you as your secretary proposed, so he will decline your invitation to meet.”_ Who the fuck called someone ‘sama’ any more, this was not the Edo period, did he kiss the dude’s shoes while he was at it too? Not to mention he fucking interrupted him, who did this cunt think he was?

 

From the top of his vision he could see Feilong shift on his feet, probably because of the look on his face, but he was determined to remain calm, like an adult that didn’t have a child’s temper – it was only a bump in the road, he told himself.

 

“Kirishima was it?” he deadpanned without any honorifics, “I’m sure your boss is a busy person, as am I, but if you could find a time in his schedule so that we can-”

 

_“I’m truly sorry, but I can assure you Asami sama is not interested. Have a good day, Takaba Akihito.”_ Came the curt words, promptly followed by the flat line of the dial tone ringing in his ear.

 

“That fucker hung up on me!” Akihito stared unbelieving at the phone in his hand. That was an incredibly rude thing to do, even for his standards.

 

Feilong stood shocked in the door way, his mouth open with scandal, for an assistant to hang up on someone – the owner of a business no less – was in extremely bad taste, you did not keep your business running that way. “Oh my. I guess there is nothing we can do then.”

 

Akihito wasn’t about to be deterred, determination – more like stubborn ass who couldn’t take no for answer – was his middle name, especially when it came to his work. He didn’t even realize he’d shot out of his seat in outrage that was until he plonked his ass back down with a huff and racked his brain.

 

“You bet your ass there’s something we can do, Feilong.” Once again he shot out of his seat, his feet stomping on the floor as motivation pulled him up.

 

“I don’t think I like where this is going.” The Chinese commented.

 

“Haha, yes you do, because we are going to the Sion office, bring the car round, would ya? I’m gonna talk to Asamu-”

 

“Asami, his name is _Asami!_ He’s not someone you can just barge in on, Akihito san, please think properly!” it must have really worried Feilong, what Akihito was proposing, because Feilong tugged on his silken black locks, which meant he was freaking the hell out.

 

He was right on Akihito’s heel as the designer walked out of the office with a portfolio of his range under one arm. “Lighten up, Fei! It will be all-good, I’ll be polite. I’ll just slip in when he has a spare minute, bring him a biscuit and a cuppa tea to close the deal. Easy fucking peasy, better than trying to talk to the asshole on the phone.”

Feilong was still tugging on his hair, “Please, I’ll come up with something else, another model, we’ll look further abroad, I’ll even do it!” He emphasized, still on Akihito’s tail.

 

Akihito stopped, and his assistant behind him startled as he thumped into the smaller frame. “Feilong, I’ve made up my mind, this guy is the one and I have to talk to him today, so bring the car around.”

 

They locked gazes in the hall for a few moments, until with one last forceful sigh; Feilong finally gave up and got the keys out from his pocket.

 

“If you say so, but I am waiting in the car while you make a fool of yourself!” the pair filed out the office and locked up, because it was lucky Akihito didn’t have any appointments until noon, and down the stairs passed the quirky coffee shop.

 

Akihito hummed a jig to himself in excitement, this was better than Christmas, he’d been searching for the right model for months and months, and he was finally going to meet the person he’d chosen.

 

 

*

 

 


	4. I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from my month away in Japan. What an adventure. Easing myself back into writing with this.

 

*

 

Akihito asked one more time as they parked in front of the huge Sion building if Feilong really didn’t want to come in, he was normally a massive worry wart when it came to Akihito getting things done, because deadlines were never his forte, and this time his assistant was so strung up about it he couldn’t even bring himself to get out of the car.

Something about ‘you don’t know who you’re dealing with.’ Or whatever, it made no damn difference to him; Akihito wanted that man, -Asami, because he had actually remembered his name now – to wear his shit. He was here to make it happen, even if it meant dealing with that fucking Kirishima douche bag that hung up on him.

 

It probably helped [he was dressed a little less](http://www.polyvore.com/untitled/set?id=156109443) like a hoodlum today; his grey asymmetric cardigan with black rider jeans was more clean than he usually dressed, he’d just polished his mid-calf boots this morning too, and the well aged leather shone with the luster that something that cost that much fucking should. And you should always look after your kicks, a life rule he always followed! Anyway, coupled with his glasses and sick bracelet watch, he’d done pretty well by himself actually, even Feilong had been impressed when he picked him up this morning.

 

He left an annoyed at his brashness Feilong parked out front to strut up to the entrance with his folio case, and with no specific plan in mind other than to act like he had an appointment with Mr Asami; he set foot into Sion without noticing how huge and luxurious it was, or any idea what he was actually getting himself into.

 

 

*

 

So far, so fucking good!

 

It seemed people knew his face, which genuinely surprised him, so he’d charmed the office girls by complimenting their outfits and asking what they were wearing, and he’d smooth talked his way all the way up to the top floor with them as an escort because they all wanted their choice of outfits validated – even if he didn’t really give a rat’s ass about women’s clothing. But they did look nice, if you were into women that was, which he definitely wasn’t.

 

If you asked Akihito, he deserved a fucking medal because there were also some hella scary looking dudes in this building; all in the traditional black suit and tie and his fingers itched every now and then as he had this insane urge to adjust hems or fix a collar. There was no way he could have gotten passed them though, that much was obvious, so it was lucky he had this harem as an escort really.

 

But he would get his medal anyway, in the form of Asami Ryuichi agreeing to wear his threads.

 

The elevator tinged, and all giggling and gossip talk around him stopped abruptly as they hit the top floor, huh, that was weird.

 

“His office is just down the hall on your right, you’ll see Kirishima san before you get there. We’d better be going back down now, bye Takaba saaaaan!”

 

And before he could even fucking process the fact that they’d all nervously pushed him from the elevator and shut the doors on him, it was already too late. That was _really_ weird. Were they not allowed on this floor or something?

 

Fuck, maybe he should have gotten more information out of Feilong on the way after all.

 

This floor was eerily quiet actually, now that he looked at the hall, a long plush carpet runner led the way, classy and not sterile like all the other buildings in Shinjuku, there was tasteful décor like vases and statues, art work and hints that actual humans used this place.

 

It was sort of intimidating, who was this Asami guy who worked on the top floor like this? No matter, it was time to find out anyway, he just had to get passed the troll called Kirishima first.

 

With determination writ on his face, and swag in his step, he started off down the hall. He was so close he could almost fucking taste it.

 

That diva Feilong was going to eat his words.

 

He trod carefully on the way too soft carpet runner - that meant it was probably wool and this person had more money than sense- noting how there were no doors at all down the short hall, there was no place for him to go but forward. The plush fabric under his feet led the way to an open area with a sprawling wooden desk in the corner, a boring secretary’s office if he’d ever seen one, and he’d seen a few.

 

Of course, Akihito had instant confirmation even before he registered all that, because said troll was in the chair behind the desk and he knew it was that Kirishima bastard on sight alone.

 

He had the typical black suit and tie that said he probably had one for every day of the damn week, it was only a smidge too close-fitting but still close enough to perfect, however the minute amount of snugness screamed uptight control freak. A tight suit jacket was on par with shoes that gave you blisters or jeans that showed your ass crack. No good for anyone, especially the wearer.  
Jesus, no wonder he was shot down right off the bat, this guy was the literal fun sponge of life.

 

The tie was _too_ fucking textbook, pulled too close to the collar for his liking, the sort of tedious flawless that screamed monotony and lack of character.

 

Don’t get Akihito wrong, what Kirishima was wearing was actually impeccable, but it was impeccable and plain as shit. Akihito and plain fashion was like mixing red wine and a white jacket with a long night of drinking ahead. Oho, boy that was not a mistake her was ever going to repeat again, he still mourned the loss of that jacket.

 

Lastly though, he fucking called it, the glasses, black, rectangular and with no decoration or label showing, intellectual and practical, and so typical he fit the nerd stereotype in manga and anime storylines. The ones where they are attractive, but the glasses and general weebishness just wrecks it.

 

His hands were starting to do that grabby thing a kid does when they want something, but it wasn’t a want for Akihito; it was instinct, something so ingrained into him that he couldn’t help but start putting shit together in his head the moment he set eyes on Glasses-kun. Fucking hell, he wanted to give this prick a make over so bad. Maybe some tortoise shell frames, a paisley tie and a suit fitted by him and this guy would be an A class stunner.

 

What a waste.

 

“What are _you_ doing here?” the flat tone and use of personal pronoun to add insult to the greeting ripped him back to earth, ugh, he’d just gone all fashion eyes and zoned out, in front of this guy no less.

 

“I’m here for my appointment, that’s his office right?” he jerked a cheeky thumb in the direction of the door that had ‘A.R’ on a bronze panel, which answered his question but it was fun to watch Glasses-kun frown.

 

“You don’t have an appointment.” The deadpan oozed contempt, “Please remove yourself from the building.”

 

Akihito was hell bent on not blowing up as he had on the phone, which would only give satisfaction to his foe, so fighting fire to defeat the sponge was his next best bet, and in Akihito’s head fire was sarcasm.

 

With a feigned sigh of boredom, he strolled on over to the desk with his folio bag in hand, and leant over the desk. “I’m pretty sure you told me to come right over this instant? Right? ‘Please come at once Takaba san’ you begged on the phone? And this is how you treat me? Rude!”

 

A sliver of reaction stiffened the secretary in his seat for a second, before he adjusted his glasses in a way that said ‘I’m way to good to be dealing with you.’ “I don’t recall saying anything of the sort, I do however remember telling you Asami sama is not interested in your _dress ups._ ”

 

“Fucking dress ups, my arse!” the secretary just had to go and say the only thing that could raise his heckles, so much for staying level headed. “Just because you don’t know how to wear a suit, right, Four Eyes?”

 

Oho! That got the man’s attention alright, the offended quirk to his brow and hardening of his lips was a small triumph to Akihito until the bastard spoke again. “Please, child, at least I’m important enough to have a reason to wear one.”

 

“Ha! Well I bet you had to have your old man give you that suit, cos it’s about as outdated as corduroy jeans and turtles necks, which even I would look good in, so sorry if I look better than you when I actually bother to attend one of the occasions people beg me to attend. Hmph!” with a snarky emphasis he crossed one arm and tucked it under the other, and cocked his hip to the side in sass for good measure. He fucking hated status dropping, but this guy was just a fucking secretary and he would learn his place.

 

“The ones you attend to play dress ups and convince yourself that you actually contribute to society?” came the flat tone once more, along with another nonchalant adjustment of his glasses, this dude had his own head so far shoved up his ass, forget about people thinking Akihito was an asshole, this guy was top quality asshole.

 

“You call it dress ups one more time….”

 

 

*

 

 

Asami laid his pen flat on his mahogany desk as hints of trouble outside made themselves known. Was that Kirishima raising his talking repeatedly out there? That was a rarity even when there was meetings scheduled.

 

He listened for a few more moments with a raised brow before looking at his Rolex; his next appointment wasn’t for another three minutes, and Kirishima was a stickler for running exactly on schedule with no deviations.

 

The commotion continued, which was even more strange, because Kirishima was capable of getting things under control rather efficiently, and his next appointment was with a Diet member who he had good on going relations with, so there should be no cause for concern.

 

However the noise only went on, he continued listening before his curiosity and instincts told him to intervene, checking his 9mm in its holster with practiced ease, he then rose with predatory grace that only he was capable of, and quietly stalked towards the door.

 

The voices and words were muffled of course, because he didn’t want his office completely soundproof, just enough that any conversation from the outside or inside would be inaudible – as it was now.

 

So he was forced to crack the door to hear it all clearly, without looking; he flicked the safety off his weapon at the same time, hoping he wouldn’t need to draw his gun completely. Blood was always such a pain to clean from the carpets on this floor and he always had to dispose of the cleaners afterwards too.

 

“- you call it dress ups one more time and I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich right in the kisser…”

 

Well, that was not the voice of Diet member Daiki. But it was the voice of someone young and irritated by the sounds of it.

 

“Resorting to violence, Akihito kun? Please leave the premises before I am forced to call security. I’ll not say it again, Asami sama is not interested.”

 

“I’ll accept it only when I hear it from Asami himself!” came the vehement hiss, and what was this all about?

 

“Ah, Daiki san, you are just on time, Asami sama will see you in-”

 

“No he won’t, I was here first.”

 

Oh? Who was this person that spoke to Kirishima _and_ a Diet member like that, interesting?

 

“Young man, do you know who you’re talking to?” Asami could practically picture the balding politician’s chin wobbling in indignation.

 

“With a suit as badly fitting as that, of course I’d have no fucking clue. Go fix your seams and loosen it around the belly a little, then I might give you the time of day.”

 

And Asami just had to chuckle at that because the politician really did have a horrible taste in clothing, his tailor didn’t do him any favors either, deeming the threat insignificant; he re-holstered his weapon and opened the door to find out who this mysterious, smart mouthed anomaly was.

 

He was met with Kirishima’s back as he tried to bar entrance to the nameless blonde, who had an extremely childish glare on his face – directed all at Kirishima no less.

 

He was young, early twenties by Asami’s guess, and even though his comment about the suit had been on point, he himself was wearing a messy grey cardigan and jeans with zips all over them, which Asami didn’t much care for, the only saving grace was that they showed off a nice pair of long legs that tapered down nicely to a pair of leather boots which were polished until they shone as much as Asami’s own leather loafers, that spoke volumes about a person in Asami’s eyes, if you couldn’t look after your foot wear, the things that carried your weight all day, then you weren’t worth his time.

 

He had this hipster pair of glasses on that intensified his striking hazel eyes, and this horridly messy mop of blonde hair that looked like it hadn’t ever seen a brush.

 

It was one of the only times Asami couldn’t get a good gauge on first impressions alone, because it was a perplexing image, half put together and half disheveled. What an eccentric person.

 

An extremely eccentric person, because those hazel eyes locked on his with astonishing intensity as if they’d just found Pandora’s Box, and in a whirlwind of daring stepped passed Kirishima and met Asami head on.

 

“Oh! Sweet Dolce and Gabbana, you’re even better than I remember! Asami right? May I please have a moment of your time, since Four Eyes over there is so uptight he wouldn’t let me make an appointment.”

 

He didn’t even give Asami a chance to answer, he simply stepped passed him as well and strolled right into his office without a care as to where he actually was, leaving an irritated Kirishima and a sputtering politician wearing a horrid suit standing in the hall.

 

Before Kirishima could get to his explanation, because Asami could see it was moments away from falling from his assistant’s mouth, he cut him short.

 

“Mind filling me in before I see to our disgruntled visitor, Kirishima?” Asami queried to his assistant, because he was genuinely curious as to what would have an odd person like that making their way to the top floor of Sion to piss Kirishima off, which was a feat in itself.

 

“Long story short, Asami sama, that is Takaba Akihito of Abyss fashion, he saw you on the weekend at the design gala, and apparently you’re ‘The Bird’ he’s been after for his ‘entire life’ because you have ‘turbo swag’ and are ‘hella’ according to him.” The report was the usual monotone, apart from the slang that rolled awkwardly off Kirishima’s tongue, which was tainted in his distaste. Asami didn’t even know what those things were, but hearing Kirishima say them was rather amusing.

 

“Hm? After for me for what?”

 

“To model his designs, Asami sama. I thought it no benefit to you, so I refused him an appointment that his assistant tried to set up this morning.”

 

“So, he came himself to see me?”

 

“Seems so, Asami sama. Shall I send for Suoh?” Kirishima shifted nervously knowing a breach should have never got to this point. This Takaba Akihito must have really been something; to make it to the top floor without an appointment, and all because he wanted to see Asami at that.

 

“No. I’ll see to it, since you were so rude to our guest.” He teased, because he would never miss the chance to unruffle the ever-composed Kirishima – and it worked, because his assistant sputtered wordlessly before snapping out of it and giving him a bow to say he understood.

 

With that done, he turned back into his office to meet the person who could unsettle his assistant so much, and all to see him.

 

He had no doubt they were trouble. Interesting trouble.

 

 

*

 


	5. I'm Bad News, In the Best Way

Akihito screamed to himself as he walked passed the man named Asami and into his office to get away from his shitty assistant. _That was the guy I saw?! Fuck me days._ Akihito swooned, _Drop dead fucking gorgeous._ And those were words he didn’t use lightly, those words from a fashion designer were like the highest praise, and that man deserved praises, all of the praises.

He was like, a twenty out of ten.

 

Akihito had lucked out by getting this far, and then having the man himself open the door to his office, because that Kirishima bastard really wouldn’t have let him in, but he was not expecting this.

 

The entire office of this Asami person oozed swagger, refinement and everything he wanted in his formal wear to portray, but on a delicate, subtle scale that said ‘I’m rich, but I’m not stupid.’

 

Then there was the person himself. Don’t get Akihito wrong, he’d seen attractive people before, but this person was _definitely_ the one he’d been looking for all this time. He had it all, the stature in his shoulders, the ambition in his eye that said license to kill, and the body that you would happily die for anyway. Holy fucking shit. Yeah, he should have got the down low from Fei, what did he say about him again? CEO or something? Akihito sure fucking hoped he was a little bit gay, too.

 

No! Now wasn’t the time to get distracted. He had to get what he came for. So close but so far, he already knew this wasn’t going to be a stroll up the catwalk, so to speak. Oh fuck, this guy on the catwalk, with his designs on… Calm down, Akihito.

 

Shoving his fan boy back in the proverbial closet, he flopped into the chair opposite the sprawling mahogany desk, took his designs out from his folio bag and set them on the desk.

 

“Akihito kun, Kirishima said your name was?” the man drawled as he stepped around to sit back in his seat with languid movements, and then clasped his hands together in his lap like he owned the place, well probably cos he did own the damn place.

 

Now is about the time Akihito curses the fact he has no filter, hence why he doesn’t have many friends, because the mention of that fucking secretary really pissed him off.

 

“Yeah, that’s me. You should get a new assistant you know, that guy is about as annoying as a stain on a pair of white pants.” He spat out as he shuffled his paperwork.

 

The resulting chuckle was definitely very nice, and he looked up to see those gold eyes sparkling with mirth, “Oho, Kirishima is very good at his job, I can assure you.”

 

Backtrack, Akihito! Backtrack!

 

“Well, he’s yet to prove it to me.” Good one, Akihito, is that all you can come up with?

 

“Fufu, is that right? So tell me Akihito.” And the man paused enough to let his name stand alone, to emphasize the way it rolled off his tongue in perfect syllables like they were the best of friends with his mouth before he continued with the honorifics, fuck, this guy knew what he was doing. “ –kun, you want me to wear your suits? Tell me, how would I benefit from that, mm? Maybe I won’t call security if you can convince me.”

 

Oh, so he was one of those types; profit is everything blah blah blah. Well shit, he really had to sell it now, and the dude already had a nice enough Armani suit as it was, so how the fuck was he going to convince him to wear something else? And was that flirting or was he just being a sarcastic prick?

 

Ah, it was always better to show and not tell in his trade wasn’t it? A little flattery never hurt, either. But he would save that for later.

 

With pointed fingers and a hiss of paper, he slid his design brief over the surface of the desk to rest in front of Asami’s chair. The man didn’t even make a move to look at them, just kept his impeccable hands with manicured nails clasped together in his lap and continued staring at him.

 

Fuck, this guy wasn’t playing the game at all.

 

“My first range of men’s formal wear is due to drop soon, and after months and months of searching for a model to be the face of the first launch, I found you.” Straight to the point.

 

“Oh? And you’re aware I’m not a model, but a CEO with little time to spare?” came the overly bored - I am superior to you - drawl. “So what makes you think I will ‘model’ for you?” He still made no move to look at the briefs in front of him. Fuck, it felt like a damn job interview!

 

“O’ course I am!” He actually didn’t consider it much, but maybe he should now, “Firstly, at least look at what I’ve brought in.” he leant over to tap his paperwork impatiently.

 

With emphasized movements Asami finally picked up Akihito’s design brief. “Why me, hm?” he looked over the edge of the page with that same intensity that made Akihito pick the dude in the first place. He could seriously, actually design an entire range based around those eyes alone.

 

“Because you’ve got the thing!” he shot back a little too fast as his enthusiasm welled.

 

“The thing?” Asami deadpanned.

 

Oh dear, how was he going to explain this? The thing. How to explain ‘the thing’ to someone who didn’t know how his ADD mind worked.

 

“The thing!” Akihito stressed again, and he could feel he was about to go full swing into crazy designer mode any second now, that’s when the filter really disappeared. “The thing that makes people look at you, the thing says; ‘sit the fuck down son, I got this’, arrogance, pride, vanity, everything, you just have the thing. And you are really, really fucking _sexy_ to boot – ah, scratch that last part, it wasn’t meant to come out.”

 

Asami just laughed at him again though, a smirk on his lips and a millionaire’s shimmer in his eye, and Akihito hoped to god this man really was teasing.

 

“So I have ‘the thing’, do I? And no one else you found does?”

 

“Fuck no.” he shot back as he remembered frustration after frustration following each sit down with model after model. “It’s not like they wouldn’t look good in my designs, because they would have. But I needed more, I needed ambition and drive, intelligence of which they all had none, just muscle and a good jawline instead. Argh.” It still pissed him off to no end.

 

He might as well push with the rest of his explanation, “I saw you at the design gala on the weekend and then asked my assistant to arrange a meeting, and well you can see how well that didn’t turn out.” An exasperated huff emphasized his dislike for Kirishima.

 

“Fufu, not very well. So, Akihito kun, what would you do if I were to side with my assistant and say I’m not interested?” his designs went back on the desk then, and Akihito still couldn’t tell if the man was playing, or if he was serious. Either way, it wasn’t something he wanted to hear – and Akihito asked himself how far he was willing to go to close this deal. Or, maybe the question was how far he _wasn’t_ willing to go.

 

“Well, then I’d ask you to reconsider then, obviously.” He met Asami in the eye, and struggled not to back down as the man looked back with a force Akihito never thought possible. This guy!

 

“And if I did? As you can see, I have fine suits enough.” And of course Akihito could see that, and he wouldn’t mind looking for a while longer, he had no problem with openly checking him out. Asami had no problem with being ogled either by the looks of it, he knew he was hot shit alright.

 

And that was Akihito’s cue to start the honest to goodness flattery/ass kissing, because he couldn’t answer those questions otherwise and he really, almost desperately wanted to prove Fei wrong, and the damn Glasses Guy outside the office, too.

 

“Asami san.” Akihito leant forward in his seat as he started, “I don’t think you can understand what it is I see when I picture a well fitted suit for someone like you.” Pushing himself up off the desk, he had to pace as his vision consumed him, “A well fitted suit on someone like you, my designs, it’s enough to bring me to my fucking knees. Ugh, when the fit around the shoulders is just right it makes my heart race, you can see the power and strength, and add a collar with sharp angles and a high neckline, it really brings out a person’s wickedness and attitude. A suit that conveys supremacy, and control, like a ‘if you havin’ wardrobe problems I feel bad for you son, I got ninety nine problems but my threads ain’t one’. That’s what I picture… and you have it all of that, don’t you? Oh! But probably minus the ninety nine problem part though, am I right?” Abruptly he stopped as he snapped back out of it, shit, he’d just gotten way too into it and started a full on bat shit crazy ramble, and sure enough when he turned to Asami he found him looking at Akihito with avid interest as his chin rested atop his knuckles.

 

“I’d make them all myself, you just have to wear them.” He tested again. It didn’t look like Asami disliked what he was saying - because who would hate the massive boosts to your ego like that - so he decided to push it even further. They locked eyes once again as he walked behind the desk and leisurely circled his chair. They both knew who was the real predator, but Akihito could still play the game.

 

He needed to touch, to feel his target now that he was this close, the neck, the shoulders, perfect – and Asami was still waiting patiently, watching his every move.

 

“Your collar.” Akihito whispered as he toyed with the fabric between thumb and forefinger, “I’d add another half inch, and raise it like so.” He made it flare a little by pulling it out, exposing the neck and more of the flawless skin underneath. “So sexy.” And Akihito didn’t register that he’d actually said it out loud again.

 

The effect of this person on him was exactly what he was going for when he pictured people in his suits. “And the shoulders.” He smoothed the fabric down as he stood behind the chair, running his hands along the muscular frame, “a few more millimeters off the seam here and the angle would be enough have people cowering at your feet.” The imagery of him dropping to his knees in front of Asami’s feet seemed to be a reoccurring thing, and he might have been making it intentional.

 

“Oh? And what if I had people cowering at my feet already, mm?” amusement hummed throughout his tone, but Akihito couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

“Well, it’s not like I could blame them…” he said absentmindedly as he continued circling all the way to stand in front, in between the desk and his giant leather chair, waiting.

 

Gold eyes raked him up and down without expression, weighing him as silence held, until finally the man shifted in his chair to make himself more comfortable, as if settling in for a show.

 

“Akihito kun, I’m still not convinced you’re bringing enough to the table.” And it was voiced like a red-hot dare, daring Akihito to keep pushing into the place that he himself was just wondering about.

 

Well. There was a table behind him, so he’d just bring himself to it, literally.

 

Slowly, he pushed himself back onto the desk until he was perched on it by his ass, his heart was fucking racing, because he had no idea what was going to happen and he didn’t give a shit because this was exciting.

 

Running his hands down the tops of his thighs, he watched as Asami observed it all behind his blank expression, he noticed those gold orbs tracking his hands though, and thought that had to be a good sign.

 

“I think….” He started with an obvious roll of his hips to open his legs a suggestive fraction. If Asami wanted a show, Akihito was more than willing to comply to get what he wanted, though the lines of what he actually wanted were fast becoming blurred by this point.  

 

“I think that you, Asami _san_ , could benefit a lot from this.” Continuing; he dipped his hands in between his thighs further down, and raked his nails upwards and outwards to spread his legs further apart the higher they came, and Jesus fucking Christ in double denim, he could feel himself getting hard. It’d been a while since he’d gotten some action, and looking into those eyes was action enough to have his blood running hot and an undoubted flush blossoming on his cheeks.

 

Asami could see that too, because his expression changed then as he lurched forward, that hella spicy smirk came back and Akihito was literally trapped by the heat burning him from that gaze. He was pushed back with a firm hand in the middle of his chest, down hard and pinned against the desk.

 

The expression loomed above him, monopolizing and wild as two arms caged him in, Akihito heard his breath hitch and watched the smirk climb higher on Asami’s lip as a result. He’d gone absolutely feral on him!

 

“Akihito kun,” an underlying threat threaded through his sexy ass enunciation that made the temperature climb even higher, “you realize you’ve come uninvited, to a private floor no less, which would be classified as _trespassing_ , gone on to disrupt my schedule, and Diet member Daiki’s to top it off, and have assaulted me in the process.” And oh my god the look he was giving Akihito now was menacing and arrogant and _so scorching_ , it was getting much too warm in the cardigan he was wearing suddenly.

 

Asami’s lower body shifted, but he paid no mind to it and tried to control his breathing, that was until he felt a thick, muscular thigh slide in between his legs and nestle there like it belonged, threatening and provocative at the same time.

 

The CEO loomed ever closer, “I _should_ be pressing charges.” And he fucking pressed something; he pressed his thigh right into Akihito’s groin to accentuate his words, grinding the limb down in a dirty dry rub like it was a high school quickie behind the bike sheds.

 

“Haa, well what can I say, when I see something I want – I will do anything in my power to get it.” He knew he was really bloody pushing the dudes buttons now, talking big while pinned and powerless was a bigheaded move, but go hard or fucking go home.

 

Akihito arched his back off the desk for good measure to whore it up some more, it brought his body closer to the woolen fabric suit above him, but he really actually wanted more - modeling deal or not – so he threw in another lewd upwards roll of his hips into Asami’s powerful leg, and fuck it felt a little too good – he actually had to bite his lip to stop any noise from coming out.

 

Asami’s arms bent at the elbows to narrow the dwindling gap between them, he could feel the heat of shared breaths on his face, and was literally not capable of looking away or anything much else apart from breathing. But from somewhere within he managed to find his inner diva, his sass and smart mouth.

 

“So you might as well give up now, and give me what I want.” And he fixed Asami with his most determined glare, the one that Feilong despised, and the one that made Mikhail laugh every time.

 

Asami chuckled right in his face too, he felt the vibration of his body, heard the echoes throughout the man’s deep chest, and watched his pupils widen to swallow him whole. Ffffffuuuuuck.

 

“See, there’s just one problem with that…” Asami trailed off suspiciously, Akihito thought he wasn’t going to continue at all and keep him guessing, until he went on in a completely different form of communication.

 

All of a sudden there was pressure on his entire body as Asami dropped his lower half with his weight focused on that fucking thigh in between his legs. It was a perfect amount of friction, because of course someone like Asami would be an expert in this field, and the stickiness inside his pants was starting to make itself known – along with the urge to rut upwards and pleasure himself on the man’s limb like an animal in heat.

 

There was no shame in feeling good about it though, none at all, so he could put on a display at the same time like he knew he could, because honey, if you got it; flaunt it.

 

He let his noises escape then, moaning right into Asami’s face with a smirk of his own as he arched himself a little higher off the desk once more, closing the gap and rendering their bodies flush. Asami watched it all, the intense observation on his face was nearly enough to make him shy away, nearly enough to make him close his eyes to escape the fire and just feel instead. But he was never one to back down, and he’d be fucking damned in ugly clothing and bad shoes if he’d start doing so now. “What problem is that?”

 

The corners of those predatory eyes narrowed in mischievous delight, they were close enough to kiss, and Akihito could make out the lines of his lips, the perfect shape and softness of them visible in all their glory, but neither of them would make that move. The thigh on his dick was still moving though.

 

“The problem is, Akihito…” those beckoning lips moved to the side, not to touch, but to hover there as the tip of Asami’s nose caressed his neck line, trailing up behind his ear in the most suggestive of paths, the muscle in between his legs kept rubbing against him, and he was forced to wait for the answer and rut helplessly upwards all according to the man’s whim. The pressure on his neck, the heat on his leg, shit, it’d been too long since he’d been laid, despite what he’d actually said to Mikhail.

 

This guy was going to make him fucking cum in his pants! Only a few more rolls of his hips, a little more force, and he’d be there, and his noises must have reflected on his impending satisfaction, because suddenly all movement ceased, the thigh drew away and of course he’d whimper helplessly at the loss because he’d been so fucking close, dammit!

 

The rest of Asami stayed close, that golden eyed stare came back to meet him in the eye with a sadistic sort of satisfaction, mouths a fingers breadth apart, and Asami’s mocking smirk right in front of him. It was then he finally finished his sentence. “The problem is, unlike you…. I’m not that easy. So get out of my office, I have a meeting to attend.”

 

See, that might have sounded like a no to anyone else, but it was the opposite to Akihito, it was only just beginning! The taunt in the gaze, the provocation that rolled off Asami’s tongue, this guy was having him on and of course Akihito could never let something like that drop.

 

Before the man could draw away, Akihito decided he would get the last word in, and with a yank on Asami’s expensive suit tie, he scrunched the soft fabric in his fist and felt the pattern of it under his fingers as he smashed their mouths together in a clumsy, stolen kiss.

 

Molten eyes widened before him in surprise before he finally shut his own to feel, it was short, toothy, raw and by the end it was definitely fucking mutual, it was the perfect amount of daring before they parted; both oddly breathless after such a short encounter.

With small huffs and puffs, Akihito fixed the knot in the tie with practiced dexterity as their breathing returned to normal, doing so as he looked into that sentient furnace of the man’s consciousness that was regarding him with a renewed evaluation no doubt.

 

After a final smoothing of the tie down that muscled chest, Akihito pushed himself upright, pretended to fix his unfixable hair, adjusted his glasses, and lastly; blatantly rearranged his hard on to tuck it under his waist band, in plain view of the CEO, who watched the entire show with the corners of his eyes pinched in pleased observance.

 

“Challenge accepted.” And Akihito finally let his own victory smirk win over his face. With bag in hand, and a little more than usual swing in his hips as he left, without looking back he said, “I _will_ get what I want.” 

 

“I look forward to seeing you try.”


	6. Kiss Me, I'm Contagious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nice short one to keep the storyline rolling.

Asami stared at the office door after it closed behind the fashion designer, Takaba Akihito, for quite some time after the blonde left, occasionally touching his lip where sharp, possessive teeth had latched on to drag across his skin as they parted. He was a feisty one, Takaba Akihito, and straightforward to boot.

 

Asami knew he himself was attractive, knew he could charm anyone out of their clothing, he didn’t need people to pretend they were interested in an intelligent conversation, it was his money and his looks they were after. He’d yet to see one individual admit this though, especially in person, until that rough haired blonde bowled into the office like the cliché bat out of hell.

 

By the sounds of it, before the weekend; Takaba Akihito didn’t even know who his name, let alone how much money he had, yet he’d only taken one short look at him at the gala and garnered more about his own character in a few seconds than what some people did in a entire evening – and it was all because of how he _looked._

This person came barging into his office for his looks alone, had said so right to his face with such a serious expression, and Asami could say he found the honesty remarkably refreshing.

 

The look on his face as he writhed on the desk underneath him wasn’t so bad, either.

 

Call it a nonsensical whim, but maybe that’s what had him stepping out of his office to the still waiting Minister Daiki and Kirishima, who looked oddly smug, probably because that designer had gone.

 

“Kirishima, bring me a detailed file on that person as soon as you can.” That wiped the look off his secretary’s face instantly, who turned to look at him with barely hidden vexation

 

“Asami sama, you’re not serious?”

 

“Do you see me laughing, Kirishima?” Asami deadpanned back, watching his secretary screw his face in distaste. He’d never known his secretary to dislike someone so openly.

 

“Him, seriously?” Kirishima rolled his eyes as he wrote the order down to execute later.

 

“Oho, lighten up, ” Asami chuckled “It might be fun playing hard to get for a change.”

 

Asami just wanted to know how far that brashly candid person was really willing to go. How much could he take until he broke and gave up? Most people would cave in on the first failed attempt, or cling on all the more in desperation, but Takaba Akihito had left his office with his head high and more determination on his face than what he’d had before he came in.

 

He hoped Takaba lasted a while, because it was always so much fun, pushing someone to breaking point.

 

 

 

*

 

 

Akihito fucking reeled as he finally sat down in the waiting car outside the Sion office, his head span with lack of blood, because it had all pooled somewhere else right about now, and he really should take care of that before it became painful. That fucking Asami.

 

“Ugh.” His puzzled sigh echoed through the vehicle, which still hadn’t moved off from the curb, and Feilong was looking at him through the rearview mirror with the ‘I told you so but I still feel bad for you’ look on his face.

 

“Akihito san, sorry, I’m sure you tried-”

 

“Oi! Who said I got turned down huh?” Akihito cut in with a distracted wave of his hand, he was fighting from squirming in his seat, because the phantom pressure on his crotch left by that hot damn CEO’s leg was clouding his thoughts. “I need to go home.”

 

Disbelief, shock, curiosity, they all played over that sassy Feilong’s face before scandal dropped his jaw open faster than news hit the headlines as he _finally_ registered the rosy flush to his boss’s cheeks. It was so good to shut that secretary up once in a while, even though it was never for long, because Fei was also a sucker for gossip like he was a sucker for a pair of black skinny jeans.

 

“Oh my god Akihito, what happened?” That question could have been directed at all his current problems, his lack of model _still_ , how he managed to get to the office to actually see Asami Ryuichi, and then what happened once he met the damn person he was after.

 

“Nothing happened, that’s the problem.” Akihito’s blanket statement only wound his secretary up tighter.

 

“It doesn’t look like nothing happened.” Feilong deadpanned, who’d finally turned around to look at him face to face with a sardonic twist to his stupidly perfect sculpted brow, that secretary was way too pretty.

 

“He didn’t say no, and he didn’t say yes, I’ll have to – no, agh I can’t think about anything right now, just fucking take me home so I can whack off before I get fucking blue balls, okay?!” he loved these pants, they’d served him well and they made his ass look great, but right now they were hella uncomfortable and like fuck he was going to lose to that bastard by cumming in them now.

 

His assistant scrunched his nose, and promptly ‘hmphed’ with his trademark sass as he spun around with a flick of his silken hair and turned the key at last. “I know we talk about a lot, Akihito san, but that was too much information, even for me.”

 

That much was true, by the time the day was done Feilong would know about everything that’d happened in that office, “Oh shut up, it’s not like you hadn’t overheard Mikhail and I going at in my office when we were together, how is it worse than that?”

 

“I’ll have you know I suffered nightmares for weeks, I’m not sorry you broke up.” One of the only people who could best Akihito at the sarcasm game was Feilong, and his words right now were a prime example of his first class tongue.

 

Akihito barked a laugh as the car started moving though, “Yeah yeah, neither am I.”

 

After a time spent driving, a high school girl smile cracked his assistants face as they neared Akihito’s loft apartment.

 

“He’s super hot though, right?”

 

This, _this_ was something they could definitely agree on, or talk about any time as far as Akihito was concerned.

 

“Oh my god Fei, so fucking hot I might die.”

 

 

 

*

 

 

One long week passed for Akihito, and he’d wracked his brains each day trying to come up with a valid ‘business reason’ why Asami Ryuichi should accept his proposal.

 

It wasn’t something he’d ever admit out loud, but Fei had been right. There was no reason at all for someone like Asami to accept his offer, now that Akihito had done research of his own – which was just Feilong putting a bunch of paper work on his desk for him to go over.

 

But if the man wanted to play that game, then Akihito would damn well play it, and he would win. He just had to figure out how. Obviously the easiest way to find the answer would be to ask the man himself what he wanted in exchange, but that would already be conceding defeat in Akihito’s eyes, and the only thing worse than being seen as a loser was a visible underwear line. No thank you!

 

So all week he’d put his head together with his assistant, who was oddly spirited about it now ‘because if Asami didn’t actually say no then there was a chance’ according to the Chinese beauty, and what Akihito wanted for the Abyss label; Feilong wanted too. They were almost at a breakthrough.

 

But all that planning, along with increasing workloads because Tokyo Fashion week was fast approaching, left Akihito without the ability to concentrate on anything by the time it hit the weekend again.

 

“Ugh, I need a drink or five.” With his face plastered ungracefully on the desk, Akihito contemplated an early nighter for the first time in months. Feilong was always telling him he needed to work fewer hours. “Is my schedule done for the day, Fei?” he half called down the hall, but with his finger also on the intercom button at the same time, because he was too tired to shout at full volume.

 

_“Yes, ah hang on, there is the culture exhibition at that gallery in Ginza to-”_

 

“No.” Akihito automatically cut in; he was _way_ too fucking tired for socializing. But there was a long pause, almost like Feilong had something up his sleeve because the assistant was a real socialite and he’d never pass up the chance to drag his boss out for the night.

 

_“….. Asami Ryuichi is on the attendees list.”_

That pulled Akihito up out of his seat, the loose bit of paper his cheek had been resting on came up with his face, but Akihito took no notice as he peeled it off his skin.

 

“Hurry up, Feiliong, we’re going to Ginza! But shit, I need to get changed first.”

 

He wasn’t one to change outfits just because he was going out, but since _he_ was going to be there, Akihito decided it would be better to bring extra swag and show his prowess by dressing a cut above the rest.

 

Akihito was a fashion designer in every thread of his being; it would be a dirty fat lie to say he didn’t love dressing up, in his own way of course, he would give Asami Ryuichi a live action sample of what his clothing could do.

 

Tonight might be a little bit fun after all.

 

 

*

 

 


	7. Side Walk When He Walks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, that escalated quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs awkwardly and posts chapter anyway* hahaha, this fic is total trash I am not sorry. Thirsty!Akihito for the win. 
> 
>  
> 
> Once again, I'd really appreciate if you could check the inserted links out(the underlined words) they are safe for work/school, and just link to a clothing website, so safe for computers too. Describing clothes is hard -_-

 

* * *

 

It was a typical evening event at another typical event for Asami, with Kirishima at his side and various people vying for his attention; he was quickly becoming disinterested.

 

Maybe it was the anticlimactic week; the expectation of having something to entertain him and finding it lacking that made this evening more drab than usual. He _had_ anticipated more from Takaba Akihito, but it seemed he’d given up after all. What a shame, another one just like the rest.

 

“Waiter, whiskey.” He commented to a passing server, who promptly bowed to him and rushed off to do his bidding, he could at least enjoy a drink if he wasn’t going to enjoy much else.

 

“Good evening to you, Asami san!” he heard what sounded like the fat Minister Daiki greet from the entrance, and sure enough as he turned towards the doorway he saw the man arriving with his wife at his side – he found himself wondering what the designer would say about the Minister’s choice of clothing tonight; it was no better than what he’d worn on Monday – something quirky and offensively correct most likely.

 

He’d made a good deal at that meeting with the minister, and because of that the man seemed to think they were friends of a sort. 

 

So long as the Minister didn’t push any boundaries it wouldn’t hurt to humor him, he was a good pawn after all, useful but disposable; the way Asami liked to keep them.

 

“Minister,” he inclined his head in acknowledgement and honeyed his tongue for good measure; because people were so easy to flatter. “Join me for a….” but Asami trailed off as his focus was completely and utterly hijacked by another person appearing in the doorway a few moments after the minister and his wife.

 

Was that really who he thought it was? The commotion at the door seemed a lot for someone who was simply a _fashion designer_ , but this person demanded that attention with their awe inspiring presence.

 

Takaba Akihito was here, and if Asami didn’t believe he made a living wearing clothes and making them before this; [he certainly did now.](http://item.rakuten.co.jp/minsobi/out-6915/)

 

Takaba had the doormen in the palm of his black leather gloved, slender fingered hand. Asami trailed the path those fingers cut through the air as he waved off a comment from a black haired beauty that Asami knew to be the secretary beside him, noting the flick of the wrist that said this person certainly knew how to use their hands.

 

His black blazer was unconventional with leather sleeves cut off at the wrist to showcase his hands; while the body was deep charcoal wool with a large draped collar that buttoned from across the shoulder in front of Takaba’s mouth to add mystery to his guise. The rest of the fabric fell down the front of his body in graceful folds all the way to his waist and moved as he did, naturally and effortlessly.

 

Coupled with his hair that Asami had thought untamable; but was now smoothed down in choppy layers towards his eyes so that the vibrant hazel only just peeked out from the bottom of his fringe; it gave off an eerie aura, because most of his face stayed covered as he peeled his gloves off fingertip by fingertip like he owned the time in the room, and people would wait on him because he said so.

 

Transfixed; Asami could only watched as those slender fingers reached up to his shoulder to unbutton the flared collar still covering his mouth, and the result was a transformation in one shift of fabric.

 

The collar fell, and now it looked as if he had a midnight scarf draped tastefully about his neck that hung low on either side, open to the small taste of skin at his neck and the black shirt underneath, a highlighted tease of porcelain skin within all that midnight fabric.

 

At Asami’s side he registered Kirishima’s annoyed ‘tsk’ because he’d seen who was here now also, but Asami couldn’t deign to say anything, because in smooth, elegant movements Takaba Akihito took his jacket off and handed it to the doorman to waltz into the room in even strides wearing a practiced smile on his face that said he would probably just as bored here as Asami was.

 

That wasn’t just it though, oh no, if the exclusive jacket wasn’t enough, the shirt underneath had to be even more so. Asami _knew_ he was staring, as were a few more, men and women alike. Like a reverse colored beacon, you couldn’t help but follow him with your gaze.

 

Clothed in midnight from head to toe, Takaba Akihito oozed class like he’d designed it himself; his cotton top, which was fit to his frame perfectly, showcased his body remarkably. Tight sleeves on the forearms lengthened the limbs, while the neckline hung loose and low to reveal pale, delicate collarbones and a slender neckline with flawless skin that looked silken to the touch.  
More tasteful draped fabric across the chest in a double breasted fold left little to the imagination about the body underneath, and Asami’s imagination was good indeed, especially given the show Takaba Akihito had entertained him with on his desk.

 

To finish it off; fine black jeans elongated his legs, and once again the choice of impeccable footwear gained Asami’s approval; a pair of black pointed ankle boots shone with luster and luxury, something only the best leather was capable of.

 

It was a complete and utter turn around from the half organized look he’d first seen, the Takaba Akihito in front of him now held a confidence only gifted to a few, one shred of self doubt in that sort of clothing would wreck the illusion, but the way he held his shoulders back, the cadence to his step and the angle in which he carried his head was the embodiment of poise.

 

So this was the sort of spell the fashion designer could weave with his clothing? Asami had to give credit where it was due, because the ‘thing’ that Takaba Akihito described; he also had.

 

He truly was an attractively troublesome person, especially given the fact that the file Kirishima had given him said the designer avoided public events such as this like the plague.

 

“Takaba Akihito, what are you doing here, hm?” Asami asked himself as he watched him disappear further into the room.

 

He was definitely going to be keeping an eye on him tonight.

 

 

 

*

 

 

As per their usual routine; Akihito separated from his assistant the moment they walked in the door.  They liked to do their own thing at these events, and Akihito’s first order of business was to find that drink he still craved, his second of course was to locate the CEO in the crowd and then watch –because stalking wasn’t his thing - how he moved in the suit he was no doubt wearing.

 

He had no fucking clue what he’d do from there, but hopefully seeing the beast in its natural habitat would give him something more to work with. It was just a crying shame that the habitat tonight had to be in a place where other designers and fashion enthusiasts happen to frequent; motherfucking _Ginza_.

 

That meant before he even made it to the bar to fetch himself a drink he’d already been approached by people who wanted to know who he was wearing, or people who wanted to say how good he looked while they were hella jealous inside because he looked fucking sharp.

 

He was wearing something Mikhail had made exclusively for him, but all people needed to see what the tiny script letter ‘M’ label on his chest and know that it was something they could never have because that meant Misha had made only one of them ever. That added to his fun, because if he was going to endure two-faced company he might as well have something to rub in said faces.

 

Feilong had gone off to do his work his magic, and Mikhail oddly wasn’t attending tonight, so it really was just him going solo on his mission tonight, with badly mixed drinks and plastic friends to aid his efforts.

 

Well, that suited him just fine, - lets be honest everything suited him – so once he had his drink in hand, he found a spot in the room with a good view and settled in to find his target as he pretended to play civil with the people about him.

 

It didn’t take long to spot him, even without his glasses, the small pocket of sophistication on the opposite side of the room led his eyes straight to the man himself, where he was standing with that Kirishima bastard and another tall hunk with blonde hair and a set of shoulders that any designer would pay to work with. Hot damn.

 

Akihito couldn’t help but put together something for blondie in his head as well – because he carried himself with a quiet surety that Akihito’s designer’s fingers itching to take measurements and test colors on. What the fuck, was he going to find a damn treasure trove in Asami Ryuichi’s fucking entourage?

 

The trio in the corner stood out as much as he himself did, people circulated around the well dressed group of men, half in awe of their obvious supremacy and half intimidated because all three of them had eyes set to kill if you approached without a good reason to do so. That was definitely what Akihito was after.

 

Not to mention the biggest treasure of them all in the middle, it was lucky Akihito had come to openly eye ball him, because he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off him even if he fucking tried.

 

Asami conversed with some fat baldie, his face composed and his demeanor cool. Fuck he was so hot. Akihito watched and pretended to be interested in the conversation around him – something about whether to wear heels or wedges to whatever event on Sunday, who the fuck cared about girls’ shoes though anyway ugh.

 

 _Look at me._ Akihito willed in his head. _Turn those eyes my way._ Was all he could think. He wanted to feel the weight of that gaze again. That’s what he was here for, after all.

 

 

*

 

Asami was being watched, that much he knew. The intensity drilling into the side of his head from the other side of the room told him exactly who it was, and as he sent the fat minister Daiki scurrying away, he turned his head to regard Takaba Akihito from across the room.

 

His eyes honed in on the black adorned figure leaning against the wall with casual ease, and locked on the hazel pools openly stalking him. The blonde would look away every now and then to laugh a rehearsed sound of amusement, he’d smile something charming at someone’s words, but for the most part those eyes remained the same whenever they looked back at him; hungry and ambitious with a touch of charisma for extra sparkle.

 

The designer wanted to play that game did he? Asami hummed to himself, pleased. Maybe he wasn’t such a let down; this fashion designer.

 

He would play this childish staring game; it would make his evening entertaining.

 

So they would exchange glances in between tid bits of dull conversation, Takaba would smile a mockingly innocent smile at him every now and then, or pull the collar of his already low hem down at his collarbone and expose more pale skin. While on the other hand; Asami loosened his tie with one finger and looked at Akihito directly as he did so, it was easy to see hazel eyes widen from such a short distance, easy to see his breath catch in his throat and see him loose track of the conversation around him.

 

Oho. This was turning out to be a good evening indeed, he ignored Kirishima’s attempts of prompting him to leave, insisted to Suoh that it was safe to stand where they were, and the silent game kept playing.

 

Hours passed, as well as more glances in between the natter, and it was clear as day to Asami at this point that Akihito loathed his company, that smile while perfect in symmetry with white teeth and pink lips was just another accessory the designer had put on tonight, and the real life observation coupled with the details about him he’d received from Kirishima gave him the perfect idea to see just how far he could push the young man, even if it meant he himself had to give an inch to see it happen.

 

“Kirishima. I’m going to see Takaba-kun. If anyone wants to talk business it’s in your hands.” With that he left his sighing assistant and bodyguard to field any questions, and with a gesture of his drink and a smirk on his lip; invited Akihito out to join him on one of the balconies.

 

 

*

 

 

The door shut behind them with a resounding click, and before the designer could even gain an ounce of control, Asami had him pressed against the wall with a thigh in between his legs to keep them spread.

 

“What the fuck.” Came the whispered hiss, challenging eyes glared up at him in surprise, and Asami reveled as he got to see all that rebellious sass up close, the real fire in his eyes instead of the fake heat he put on for the others inside, that unmarked neck and ripe skin, it was even better at this distance, and maybe the label owner had something he wanted after all.

 

“That smile you were wearing in there, Takaba Akihito, doesn’t suit you at all.” Asami drawled down at him as he traced those hypnotizing collarbones with his thumbs.

 

The blonde bristled and the fire flared, and oh how Asami rejoiced at the fact that Akihito hadn’t given up like he thought. “Yeah, well the suit you’re wearing might be expensive, but the look on your face in there was cheap – mph.”

 

“Akihito-kun.” Asami cut in and whispered with a finger over the smaller man’s lips, “You should be careful how you talk to me, after all I have what you want… everything you want.” And to make it clear Asami pressed closer again, mimicking their position they had earlier in the week, only this time it was vertical.

 

It took nearly everything Asami had then and there not to turn the blonde around and fuck him legless though, because Takaba’s tongue snaked around his finger and pulled it into his mouth, and in the crisp night air Asami could feel the heat of that mouth intensely so as it worked at his finger in sucks and licks.

 

“So this is who you really are. A shameless fox that’s sucking on more they can swallow.” Asami noted aloud with a flat tone. Akihito might be having fun now, but once he made the young man agree to his own proposal; he wouldn’t be.

 

The mouth withdrew at that, before Akihito licked his lips and taunted him more. “There is no shame in knowing what you want.”

 

“And I’ll give it to you, if you do something for me.” The smirk on his face, and the predatory sheen in Asami’s eye was enough to wipe the smug attitude right off of Takaba’s expression.

 

“W-what’s that?”

 

“I’ll wear your clothing, Takaba Akihito, to every event that I attend-”

 

“But I need photo-”

 

“Do not interrupt me when I am talking, Akihito-kun” with no room for arguments, Asami demanded quiet like he demanded respect from his subordinates, and with a tight swallow of shock from Akihito he was granted it instantly.

 

“… As I was saying, I’ll wear your designs to everything I attend, and in return you have to accompany me.”

 

The look of shock on the young man’s face deepened, and Asami knew he’d hit the bullseye.

 

“Oh fuck no, anything but that.” And Takaba Akihito _balked_ in front of him, because the reports given to him by Kirishima said that Takaba Akihito was an introvert at best and recluse at the worst, and nothing could be worse for a person like that than making them attend occasions day after day and having to deal with people with that false smile, it would liven up his schedule immensely by having someone to tease at his side.

 

“Take it or leave it, Akihito-kun.”

 

Silence took the place of the usual bold remark he’d no doubt get, it was time to add some pressure, literally.

 

Pressing closer; he leaned in to breathe hot air on that supple neck, and in the fresh intimacy he could smell the citrus shampoo he used, and the delicate musk of subtle cologne, but underneath it all there was still a natural, clean smell that had him pressing closer still.

 

“I’ll give you what you want.” He emphasized with a ghost of a kiss on that racing pulse.

 

Akihito’s limber body squirmed against his, his breathing deep and his cheeks flushed, and Asami was certain what it was that _he_ wanted out of this tonight.

 

The blonde sighed as he gave in and clung to the thick chest in front of him as Asami overwhelmed him by force alone. “Ugh, we’ll work out the details when I take your measurements.”

 

“Fufu, so obedient, Takaba Akihito.” Asami purred into his ear, now it was his turn; with one teasing finger he trailed it back up to that lush mouth and hooked him by the lip to pull him down, and further down, until Takaba was on his knees in front of his crotch, looking up at him now with that hunger back on his face.

 

“That’s it. Now, show me how much the fox can really swallow.”

 


	8. You Cumplete Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please excuse me while I go and bathe in holy water... haha. 
> 
> I can't believe what I just fucking wrote. 
> 
> I had this song on repeat while I wrote most of this *looks at dreaminingwithoutyou* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bw5ZYNucLtA haha, ahhhh, I love Ronnie Radke so much it hurts. 
> 
> self edited yo.

You Cumplete Me.

 

This wasn’t going to plan at all, Akihito thought in the back of his head as he sank to his knees – he didn’t even care that his pants might get a tad dirty, but he did take care not to scrape the leather of his shoes as he shifted his feet. Scratched leather, no thank you, honey.

 

He’d half gotten what he wanted; Asami was going to wear his threads, but he was going to actually _wear_ them, that was _not_ apart of the plan.

He needed a photo shoot, for catalogues and advertisements, he needed a stand out model for Tokyo Fashion week; he didn’t need what he’d actually agreed to! How many events did someone like that go to? Too fucking many, definitely. And he had to go to if he even wanted a shot of getting anything else out of it.

 

Shit, that bastard had definitely got one up on him this time. Akihito could foresee himself being extremely fucking done with this shit really fast. Curse his sensitive neck that made him beg for it every single time, Asami had found his biggest weakness completely by chance. This top was the wrong choice after all, stupid low collar.  

 

The man himself though seemed so unruffled and self satisfied at the turn of events, though Akihito’s extremely expensive pants would be up in flames right now if he said he hated where this was going right at this moment.

 

Oh, he could work with this, he wanted to work with this. Mr In Control might be all stoic faced and ironed out right now, but Akihito was going to have fun making him lose it when he finally got his mouth on that dick.

 

The rest he could deal with on the fly, the most important thing was to not relent, he could deal with petty parties and worthless occasions to get what he really wanted, he just never had to show Asami how truly frustrated it was no doubt going to make him.

 

But right now though he had a side mission to complete.

 

He slid the supple leather of the man’s belt back through the steel buckle in metallic clinks that rang throughout the chilled night air of the balcony.

 

Akihito didn’t give a flying shit if anyone came through that door right now, though he suspected Fei might have seen them go through the door and was now warding people away. If not though, anyone was sure to go back inside as fast as they came out once they saw what was going on.

 

The designer wasn’t just going to suck him off right away, no, Akihito was going to make him want it as much as Akihito wanted the man to agree to his proposal, as much as Akihito wanted to palm at the already hard flesh in between his legs.

 

Right now it was Asami 1: Akihito 0, but once he was done they’d be even.

 

He nibbled at the fabric around the zip as his deft hands searched for the top button, taking his time to breathe hot air through the layers of cloth. The growing hardness under his mouth told him he was right on the money, but of course there’d be no other reaction yet, it would take much more than this to get someone like Asami to crack.

 

So he gnawed at the area until the clothed flesh under his lips was throbbing, only stopping when he pulled the zip down with this teeth to look up to see those gold eyes staring down at him with a smug glow because Asami knew exactly what he was up to.

 

“I’ll have you gasping my name by the time we’re done. Don’t you worry about that, Asami _san.”_ Akihito put on his best show of innocence as he laid his cheek flat against the crotch in front of him in a false display of coyness and batted his eyelids.

Something unexpected happened then though, an oddly gentle hand carded through his hair with a sort of warmth that made Akihito feel uncomfortable, it wasn’t something he was used to, and he was about to back out of this extremely damn fast because attachments fuck no – that was until the hold changed and the hand wasn’t tender anymore but gripping tight at his hair with control and possession. Oh okay then, that made his heart beat a little bit faster for all the right reasons.

 

The most wicked smirk Akihito had ever seen any one wear before graced those lips then, molten power gazed down in authority. “Do your worst, Little Fox. If you do a good job, there might be something else in it for you.”

 

“Oho, I’ll be sure to try my hardest.” Was all he mumbled before he went back to work, the hand made one more pass through his hair before it fell away to the side and left it all up to Akihito.

 

This was good, really fucking good; Akihito decided as he scraped his teeth over the thinner fabric of Asami’s black briefs, he could feel so much more now with one layer of clothing pulled away, and of course the guy would be as well endowed as his fucking bank account.

 

He ran his hands up those thighs trapped in that woolen suit, felt the muscles and raw strength that anchored the man’s being there. He started off gentle, up and down, until his fingers were gripping the meat of those legs like he wanted to claw those damn pants off – maybe because he did. All the while his mouth and teeth worked at the treasure underneath those briefs, and in the end he could taste the saltiness of precum as it oozed through the fabric.

 

“Someone’s excited.” Akihito commented dryly, bringing his hands up to finally pull those fucking briefs as far down as he could manage, the pants had to come down a little, for this he needed access to the whole package.

 

“Mm, I’m yet to be convinced you have the skills to back up your words, Akihito-kun.”

 

_Yeah yeah, we’ll see about that._ He commented to himself as he took in what he had to work with and holy shit, he hoped he really could swallow that thing.

 

That wasn’t just it, the definition of his pelvic muscles which dipped down into that V that drove Akihito mad, the flat, smooth skin with just a smidge of hip bone that he wouldn’t mind sucking on just to see what Greek god tasted like. Unnng.

 

Akihito was struggling to decide who was going to enjoy this more, but as he leant in to start at the skin of those hips he found he didn’t really give a shit.

 

Gentle, teasing kisses was what he started with, along with ghosting his breath across that glorious skin, every now and then he’d work at a spot, bite and suck until he left marks, still he got no reaction.

 

So further and further down he went, working the skin around that cock and ramping up Asami’s sensitivity as he did so, one of his hands went in between those steadfast legs to knead those heavy balls with firm rolls of his fingers, tugging and cradling and keeping the man guessing what was coming next.

 

Asami’s breathing got heavier then, and it was nearly time for Akihito to literally blow the man away.

 

With one last wet of his lips he closed in on the final act and started at the base of Asami’s dick the exact same way he started on the man’s skin, with soft kisses and licks, the occasional raw suck and playful nibble until he got to the head.

 

That breathing above him was definitely unsteady now, unsteady enough for Akihito to finally tip the balance.

 

A short dance of his tongue around the end was all the warning he gave before he took it all in, all the way to the back of his throat to massage the head with the movements of his swallows.  

 

“Haa...” Came the outbreath above him as Asami shuddered, that controlling hand came instinctively back to his hair to lock him in place, and the man leant forward to brace the other forearm against the wall in and effort to remain standing.

 

That was the reaction he was after, fuck yeah.

 

Akihito kept at it, sliding backwards and sucking on the end with hollow cheeks before sinking back down and lavishing at the flesh with his tongue, the grasp in his hair grew tighter, more urgent. He dared take a look up and when he did he found exactly what he was looking for.

 

Even in the dim light he could make out Asami’s eyes closed in bliss, his mouth hanging open and with black locks falling down in dishevelment. What a fucking hot mess, even though right now Akihito was no better. The ache in his groin was almost painful, like a day spent in bad shoes that you couldn’t wait to kick off.

 

The sight egged him on, enough that he really wanted to make Asami feel good, good enough to come back for more, so with a cramping jaw and tears in his eyes he sunk his mouth all the way down to the base to bury his nose in the soft hairs of Asami’s groin.

 

“Fuck, Akihito..” The hardness in his mouth throbbed, that hand in his hair grasped until it stung, and he felt Asami spill warmth down the back of his throat as the man rocked his hips forward to fuck his mouth slowly in drawn out thrusts.

 

His heartbeat stuttered as the sound of Asami’s pleasure rang in his ears, fuck, that was a good sound. Almost too good, one nudge of his pants and he’d be sure to blow his own load, even through his spiked arousal the thought made him cringe because he didn’t want to soil his pants that much.

 

On that notion, Akihito detached himself to rub the muscles under his jaw, wipe the moisture from his eyes and regain a little breath, he avoided thinking about his own needs, if he ignored it, it might go away – slightly, until later on. All he needed was the satisfaction of having Asami buckle under his ministrations.

 

“Pleasure doing business.” the designer commented as he rose from his knees to come face to face with Asami at last, and of course that stoic mask was already back on, they were back to playing the cool, calm and collected game – which was really hard with his dick screaming for attention.

 

The CEO was looking at him anew now, his piercing eyes mocking him with that silent dare – _go on, ask for it._ Those eyes were saying. Fuck that handsome bastard.

 

The designer adjusted himself carefully, and thanked the gods of hemlines that he’d worn a shirt that covered the bulge in his pants tonight of all nights. Fashion never failed him, at least not when he was wearing black.

 

“I’ll have my secretary contact yours to arrange a time for you to come and get your measurements taken.” with this he really could block out the need in his nether regions, it all faded into the background when he talked about his job – he might like to fuck around, but if there was one thing he was serious about; it was his career, which is why he was doing this in the damn first place. Asami was the one he needed for the next step in his livelihood to happen.

 

“You have a good evening now, Asami. I look forward to our next meeting.” It was as formal and well spoken as he could muster, and he was pretty proud of how well it sounded in his own ears.

 

It must have caught Asami off guard too, the flip in his mood, because as he made the turn to leave his wrist was yanked back, and he was pulled into Asami’s chest with a firm arm around his waist and no, this was too fucking close right now.

 

Asami didn’t stop there though, feral gold eyes and that devious smirk loomed above before the other hand snaked up the back of his neck and buried itself in his hair once more.

 

Then, his world was spinning; Asami forced their mouths together just like Akihito had on their first meeting, but this time it was deeper, more hungry and primal.

 

Teeth clashed as mouths opened and tongues lapped at each other, and this was the sort of fuck starving kiss Akihito could really get into, woah. The hand on his back roamed down to squeeze his ass so hard that there would definitely be a mark tomorrow, a nice memento, but the pressure faded as soon as it’d come and turned into strokes of his fingers in between his cheeks, subtle and teasing through his pants.

 

Ugh. This guy knew how to press all his fucking buttons! Akihito was a total bottom and the tease was almost too much.

 

Just as he was about to cling on, so close to _actually_ asking for it; Asami pulled his head back a fraction, and pressed their foreheads together to maintain the electric closeness and shared breaths – so close to boiling point.

 

“I’ll have Kirishima arrange it for Monday.” Came the controlled drawl, the vibrations of that deep voice shook through him and raised the hairs on his neck with their lulling effect. “You better be prepared for my arrival, Takaba Akihito.” There was a slight edge to that voice this time, along with another trace of those long fingers up his ass to emphasize the real meaning there.

 

“A bird like me is prepared for any occasion.” Akihito challenged back as he struggled to keep his head in the face of Asami’s hypnotism.

 

What the fuck had he really gotten himself into?

 

The CEO chuckled as he let them apart at last, and Akihito could breathe and sort his mind out, being in the same breathing air as that guy was bad for his health.

 

“Care to accompany me for the rest of the evening, hm?” those eyes fucking twinkled, Asami no doubt knew he wanted to dart off home and get the hell out, but he just had to go and test him one more time.

 

Of course to Akihito there was no such thing as backing down, plus he looked stunner in his outfit tonight, and it might not be so bad hanging with Asami instead of those other parasites that seemed to attach themselves whenever he made an appearance.

 

“Love to.” He flat toned back as he silently willed his aching hard on to piss off.

 

“Oho, I’m sure you would.” And then Asami guided him back through the door with a hand on the small of his back, back into the building where the sight of them together all night made for the most unlikely pairing anyone in Tokyo had ever seen.

 

 


	9. Off The Heezay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and ahhh, I'm just having fun with it now.

He was good, Asami decided as they waltzed back in to the party like they’d never left. To his left he noticed Takaba’s Chinese assistant take note of their re entry into the building, and from across the room he saw Kirishima and Suoh relax at seeing their boss safe back inside the venue.

 

Oho, Kirishima wasn’t going to be pleased about the deal he’d just made, but the pleasant ache in Asami’s groin meant he couldn’t conjure up an ounce of pity for his secretary.

 

He’d been caught off guard with Takaba tonight, that much he would admit. The designer had a smart mouth on him, the skills to back it up, and then some.

 

There were professionals who couldn’t even deep throat like that, so of course it piqued Asami’s interest as to where a young fashion designer learnt to use his tongue with such expertise.

 

Then to have the nerve to try and walk away from him as if Asami hadn’t just come hard down his throat, masking his own desire with a business like smile and straightening of his clothing. Oh yes, he was incredibly good, and incredibly amusing. It would be fun to play with this one after all.

 

And then, to think that this person thought they could have the last word of the night, could leave him there on the balcony as if nothing more than a simple business agreement had happened. Asami couldn’t have that. The last word was always his, and the excitement of a fresh new challenge had caused him to act. Not many people could spark his desire for a game, but Takaba Akihito was definitely one of those people.

 

Pushing him to the edge had only added to his satisfaction, making him squirm further as he groped that pert ass to mold him into an aroused messed. Winning that way would only be too easy though, the entertainment would be short lived, and he knew Akihito could give him so much more than that. He’d wring every last drop of sass from that pretty mouth before he was done.

 

The defiance in those eyes that burnt when issued with a challenge was magnificent, of course Takaba didn’t know whom he was really dealing with, but it made no difference to Asami.

So now here they were, talking side by side at the culture exhibition and attracting all sorts of nosy glances. Akihito brushed off the speculation with experienced ease, a nonchalant wave of his hand, a well-practiced smile, feigned interest in what people had to say.

 

Asami had seen it all before, in himself. Akihito wasn’t a recluse, Asami concluded, he just hated the fakery and masks people tried to disguise themselves with. Rather than choosing to endure it like Asami did, he just chose to avoid it all together.

 

“Asami san!” came the nasally call of a woman to their left, he recognized the daughter of a business associate weaving her way through with another young woman on her arm, dolled up with too many diamonds and not enough clothing. He’d rejected the marriage proposal offers from this particular family on multiple occasions.

 

Next to him he heard Akihito snort under his breath, and he caught the end of an eye roll as Akihito let some of his vibrant true colors shine through. “Please don’t tell me you slept with that.” He mumbled into his glass.

 

“And if I did?” Asami drawled back, nonchalant.

 

Akihito tipped his flute of champagne back in preparation to deal with the onslaught of young women. “You might as well have handed over your wallet and called yourself daddy then.” Akihito muttered as the girls drew closer.

 

“Oho.” Asami allowed himself a chuckle, Akihito was spot on with that one, “Maybe I might like that, so keep it in mind.”

 

The designer was left trying to quell his furious flush as the pair arrived, bouncing with over enthusiasm and a little liquid courage to greet Asami with excitement.

 

They thought Asami was smiling at them, but really he was smiling at the young man beside him who grumbled something incomprehensible before snatching another flute of champagne, and putting his own mask back on with a quick cleansing breath.

 

 

 

 

“Tamura chan, and Yumi chan.” Asami greeted them seductively, “You are both looking _very_ well tonight.” he eyed them both up and down with false heat before he leant in to peck them both on the cheek.

 

Beside him, Akihito coughed under his breath at the joke to hide his laughter, because Asami had just been sucking face with Akihito, who’d just had his mouth around his dick.

 

Tamura and Yumi however, seemed to enjoy the flattery and both turned into oblivious giggling messes at Asami’s advance, it only made the it all the more amusing for the pair of men, who looked to each other with a smirk and a visual high five.

 

Takaba’s demeanor changed then too, he stepped forward with a predatory look on his face, all suave composure and class, wicked and seductive. “Introduce me to the lovely ladies, Asami san.” He suggested with a playful coolness.

 

Asami played along, and introduced them one at a time to Takaba, who smiled at them in turn with erotic eyes and said hello with a honeyed tongue, before he took each of their hands in his own to bow down and kiss them. Of course he used the hand that just moments before had been down Asami’s pants, and the soft skilled lips that had just been exploring in between his legs.

 

The charm levels were through the proverbial roof, Akihito oozed sex appeal and allure like he was the model and not the designer, “My name is Takaba Akihito. Nice to meet you both.”

 

Asami chuckled to himself. Akihito had outdone him for now.

 

The designer captivated them for the entire conversation, while Asami added his own hypnotism in to render the girls helpless under their scrutiny, until in the end Tamura worked up the courage to ask what they were doing later.

 

How far would Takaba take it? Asami wondered.

 

“I have someone special waiting for me at home, she’ll be waiting.” The designer supplied with an innocent shrug, as if he hadn’t just led the women on the skin of their teeth and then dropped them at his feet.

 

So he could be cold like that too, then. Asami mused over the straight faced lie as the women left with their noses put out.

 

“That was rather mean of you, don’t you think, Takaba?” Asami suggested with a show of fake morality.

 

“Like I could even get it up for a woman.” Akihito huffed aloud with a look of distaste, “Did you see that fucking dress? Purple and red don’t go well together, honey.” And that sass was back on that mouth as Takaba threw more champagne down his throat.

 

“Fufu, so harsh, but you’re right on that.” He turned his full attention to Takaba now, half caging him in against the wall. “However, lying that you have someone at home is not nice, especially when I’m right here.”

 

Takaba blinked, once, twice, before he barked a laugh. “I wasn’t talking about you. I do have someone at home waiting for me.”

 

Caught off guard yet again at the possibility of being played, Asami leant in with a rumble, “Don’t fuck with me, Akihito kun.”

 

The designer however, just kept giggling as he tipped his head forward and brought their faces closer, “Oho, no need to be jealous over a cat, Asami san.”

 

A cat? Asami startled.

 

“I don’t know what sort of person you think I am, Asami.” The designer then continued with a drawl into his ear, “But two timing and cheating is definitely not on my repertoire. If I had someone at home, I wouldn’t dream of touching you or anyone else. So calm your tits, dude.” The blonde finished off with a tease to lighten the mood.

 

The undying display of moral and fidelity that Akihito possessed had Asami looking at him properly for the first time, fierce with his values and not afraid to voice them – he really was a strong willed person, and that was something Asami could appreciate, a lot.

However that odd phrase on the end was something he could do without.

 

“Calm my tits, huh? Like you managed to calm your hard on so well just before, hm? I can still take care of that for you, since you did so well.” Asami whispered back, even though he knew Akihito wouldn’t cave now.

 

The designer grunts, “I can take care of myself, thanks. I’m not some whore that needs to be paid. I sucked you off because I wanted to, nothing more, nothing less.”

 

“Akihito kun, did you perhaps think maybe I simply wanted to return the favor? All you needed to do was ask, I would have dropped to my knees then and there.” Asami lowered his voice, could see the way it made Akihito shiver and hitched his breath, raising goose bumps on that neck that’d been beckoning him all night.

 

The designer licked his lips with the promise, before pushing away from the wall and brushing passed Asami in a way that pressed them together for a tantalizing moment. “Maybe next time then.”

 

“Fufu, I look forward to it.” He followed Akihito back into the crowd, where they shared glances and inside jokes on people’s out fits and behavior. Evenings like this would be much more bearable, even enjoyable now, Asami decided.

 

 

*

 

 

“Asami sama. Problem at the docks. We need to go.” Kirishima stepped in behind him to report in his ear, he’d watched them from afar for most of the night, choosing to keep his distance from the designer, who just so happened to send a cheeky wink the secretary’s way every time Takaba caught him staring.  
Watching the pair had been amusing, but it seemed Kirishima had finally found a reason to drag his boss away for the night, away from the troublesome designer, was what his right hand man was probably thinking.

 

“Bring the car around, Suoh.” Asami relayed his orders as he decided he couldn’t over look any problems when it came to the docs, the epicenter of his transport business.

The pair left to do his bidding, while Takaba watched the exchange with disinterest.

 

“Thank fuck for that, means I can go home too.” He gave up a sigh that said how tired he was, and then gestured to his own assistant who was across the room talking to a group of people.

 

“To your cat.” Asami deadpanned.

 

“To my cat, yes.” The designer confirmed as he placed his glass on a nearby table to be collected. He exchanged a wordless signal with the raven haired assistant, and the man named Feilong dipped his head in acquiesce before leaving also, presumably to bring Takaba’s car around.

 

The pair made their way to the door together to wait in the foyer of the gallery, onlookers watched, curious to see if they would leave together.

 

“Here I thought we were having a good time.” Asami feigned hurt, while his eyes provoked the designer.

 

To his surprise yet again though, Akihito visibly sagged with another sigh, ran a hand through his hair in order to unwind himself now they were outside, and spoke with unveiled honesty. “It wasn’t so bad, actually. I just… have a shit ton on my plate with fashion week coming up… I’m fucking tired.” He eventually admitted.

 

During his small moment of openness, Asami’s limo had arrived in the parking bay, Suoh stood impassive as ever with the door open as they waited for their boss.

 

But the small amount of weariness had Asami feeling somewhat empathetic; and once again looking at the designer with growing levels of respect and admiration.

 

“Anyway, that’s your ride, I’m sure glasses guy wants you to – woah what-” Asami cut him off after a quick look around to assess no one was looking, and silenced him with a lingering kiss, soft, delicate, open mouthed and slow. It had Akihito clinging onto the fabric of his chest, absolute putty in his hands.

 

This was bad, Asami concluded as he found the desire to do more than just kiss him rising. The docks were waiting.

 

After a considerable amount of effort for one such as him, he managed pull back from the kiss, and that’s when he noticed how fast his own pulse was going, how hot he was under the collar, how short he was of breath. Maybe he was tired, too.

 

Before he could collect himself again, Akihito, the enrapturing fashion designer yanked him forward by the tie to attack, his moment of weakness seemingly gone. He laved at Asami’s ear lobe with that hot mouth. He sucked and licked with all the skill he’d seen earlier, sent shivers down his spine, and before stepping away with that vivacious look back on his face, whispered.

 

“See you on Monday, Daddy.”

 

Asami growled as he found he definitely wanted more than a kiss now, and watched Akihito’s back retreating to his own vehicle while Asami was left standing at the entrance alone before he made his way to the limo to calm down on the ride to the docks.

 

That designer was bad for his rationality, he decided, but he was still looking forward to Monday.

 

He told Kirishima as much, who then proceeded to remain quiet and brood for the rest of the night, mumbling something about Akihito being too much of a young hooligan to be seen with Asami, much to Suoh and Asami’s amusement.

 

“If he can tick Kei off that bad, I already like him.” Suoh admitted to Asami as he rolled a body off the dock at the end of the night, it hit the water with a splash; the concrete weights pulled the corpse down, where it would never be seen again.

 

“Fufu, he’s an interesting one.” Asami chuckled as the next body followed.

 

 

*

 

“Oh my god, you guys were smooching something chronic, Akihito. Tell me everything.” Feilong managed spit it all out before his ass had even touched the car seat.

Akihito grinned a toothy smile to his friend and assistant, “Everything?”

 

“Everything!”

 

The car moved away from the curb before the limo in front, and Akihito definitely got kicks out of hearing that hungry growl as he’d run off and left Asami standing there. He stared out the window as the events of the night ran through his head. “You wanna stay over? There’s a lot to tell.” He dropped a hint with a suggestive tone.

 

“Not with that thing at your house! Just tell me.” Feilong shot right back, it was no secret that he didn’t much like Akihito’s house hold pet.

 

“Haha, aww, come on Fei! She loves you. It’s been so long, just stay and I will tell you every last detail.”

 

“She chews on my hair.” Feilong huffed, “And brings me dead bugs.”

 

“Hey! Those bugs are gifts. Come on. I’ll even throw in the coconut sorbet in the freezer.” Akihito bartered with tasty health foods.

 

“Every last detail?” the Chinese asked, skeptical.

 

“Every last one.” Akihito nodded, though he noticed they were going toward his house with a little more speed than usual.

 

“Okay, done. I’m holding you to the sorbet too.”

 

 

*

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coconut sorbet is so good, you guys.


	10. The Hustle Continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I did something unnecessary! (ooh spelt that right first go) 
> 
> Outfit (underlined words) is linked to my LJ page, is safe for work!

 

 

*

 

The keys rattled in the door to Akihito’s loft apartment as he unlocked it, the metallic noise rang out in the small stairwell, and it was always enough commotion to rouse his cat so that she was waiting at the entrance when he opened the door.

 

“She’ll be so excited to see you, Fei.” Akihito mocked as he pushed the door open and flicked a light on.

 

The look on his assistants face was distaste mixed with a small amount of affection, Akihito knew he secretly loved that cat – everyone loved his cat, _everyone_. If you didn’t like his cat, then Akihito sure as fuck didn’t like you.

 

Sure enough, before the Chinese even had time to respond, a coarse meow that sounded quite close to the sound of pure fucking evil echoed through the open living space.

 

Akihito felt his girl smooch around his legs in greeting, already purring like a boss and throwing herself at his feet in excitement.

 

“Tripod! Hello, my baby girl.” Akihito crooned as he dropped all his shit by the door and leant to pick up his three-legged hairless cat.  The bat eared sphinx had been a gift from Mikhail, the most bad ass cat at the adoption center, none of the other cats went near her because she was hella angry at everything, and no one wanted her because she was hairless and unusual, that was until Akihito spotted her in a local adoptathon advert while lying in bed with Misha one Sunday morning.

 

The next day he’d come home to a cherry Russian with scratches all over his hands and face, and this fucking hairless cat wandering around the loft with a black bow collar, acting as if her shit didn’t stink, which it fucking did by the way.

 

It was hard to imagine his cozy place without her now, and fur free meant he never had to worry about cat hair on any of his things -because fuck that right in the ass with a dry broom handle – even if her meow sounded like a chainsaw starting up to massacre kittens and babies, even though she ripped up rolls of toilet paper and left snow confetti in the bathroom, even if she shredded all his paperwork when he never paid enough attention to her – he fucking _adored_ his cat, more than he adored his limited addition Prada leather jacket.

 

He cradled her on her back, upside down as she kneaded the air in pure contentedness because fuck yeah dad’s home, and kicked off his shoes – he really should go and put them in his walk in wardrobe, which was like the biggest room in his tiny loft, but he was too tired for that that much effort.

 

It was straight to the his suede chaise lounge – not the typical leather couch, hell no, leather was fucking uncomfortable, and you always stuck to it in the summer and it was always too cold to lay on in winter – where he sat down and stretched out against the arm rest to look at the sparkling view of Shinjuku from his industrial floor to ceiling windows.

 

The varnished wooden floors reflected the city lights from outside until Feilong drew the old venetian blinds, then it was to the kitchen which was only across the room, separated by an island bench with a polished concrete counter, to boil water for a much needed dose of caffeine and tolerance of life in general.

 

The walls of his loft were all grey brick, different colors and textures, some smooth to touch, and some rough enough to catch your clothing on, the pitched ceiling with rough wooden beams and hanging pendant lights completed his two bedroom abode on the top floor of an old industrial warehouse block that’d been converted into small businesses.

 

He’d actually been searching for a swag new place for Abyss headquarters and found this ultimate gem while he was looking, the next day he paid the tender in cash and stopped the renovations that were going to make it look new, unlived in and utterly fucking tasteless, and he’d left it as it was – fucking perfect if you asked him.

 

With Feilong’s input, they’d decorated the place to the nines and had spent many nights on the couch gossiping, eating and crashing out after a fashion show, or working on projects through until morning or their eyes stopped working.

 

They had this routine down fucking pat, Akihito cuddled his demon cat and let her smooch his face with licks and dribble while his assistant’s OCD took over and he cleaned up, first his dropped belongings by the door, next he stacked the dishwasher, and lastly hot coffee and dessert.

 

Finally, the Chinese sat down on the opposite end of the couch at last after tying his hair in a loose bun and changing into some of Akihito’s sweat pants and a t-shirt, and threw his feet up to intertwine with Akihito’s because that pretty bastard had nice long legs too – and his couch wasn’t that big.

 

Akihito pulled the blanket down that hung on the lounger over top their legs, and within seconds Tripod was already squirming to get free, flailing on her back until she flipped over and was purr stalking her way to Feilong’s lap across the couch.

 

“Traitor.” Akihito pouted as the feline completely ignored him, Feilong tried to fend her off with a tired palm to her forehead, but the cat just kept purring, kneading the blanket and being too fucking cute for anyone to say no to. With a sigh the Chinese gave up and opened his long slender arms, where Tripod crawled into his lap with a victory yawn before curling against his chest to sleep.

 

Having lost to his feline nemesis yet again; Feilong carried on as if the buzzing bundle of adorableness wasn’t in his lap.

 

“Leave nothing out.” Fei said before a spoonful of his prized coconut sorbet.

 

Akihito had his confidant gasping in surprise into the night, blushing and cheering him on, because despite that sassy Feilong saying he could skip the details when it came to particular things, the designer knew he wanted every juicy morsel to mull over.

 

He explained the shitty ass deal he’d hashed out with the CEO, and his own ideas in relation to it, his musings on how he could manipulate it further to at least work in his advantage, because for fucks sake there was so way he was losing to that egotistical charmer who had every damn reason to be egotistical, and none not to be alluring and too damn hot.

 

He was going to wring Asami fucking Ryuichi for all he was worth at the contract negotiation on Monday, maybe literally too.

 

He wanted it all, he _needed_ it all for his idea to truly be executed, for people to see the power in suits, to feel the intimidating presence of well cut lines and sharp intelligence, to be intimidated by swag and enthralled by complete fucking dominance. For that he didn’t just need Asami, oh hell no, nothing said unstoppable, untouchable and out of your league like a man out on the prowl with his lads.

 

That’s right, to create his Abyss Empire Akihito was going to use another, the Sion empire. Not only was he going to hook Asami; he was going to hook that Glasses guy and the Hottie Bodyguard as well. 

 

As if sensing his owner’s malicious intent, Tripod his ever-faithful girl got up from Fei’s lap to make her way back over where she curled up on his thighs, purred in satisfaction as she got pats and listened to the pair hash out a strategy for Abyss’ success.

 

 

*

 

 

The weekend passed too swiftly for Akihito, with too much to do and Tokyo Fashion week nagging at him like a whining significant other, he couldn’t exactly afford a weekend working on a pet project, there were calls from the Fashion show organizers he needed to take to arrange his runway show, the catalogue company he needed to talk to so he could put together the final print outs _for_ the runway show, and before all that he needed fucking photos of _all_ models in his wears as previews to put _in_ said damn catalogues.

 

He had all the lesser models he needed, ones that wore more casual suits, every day suits and salary man suits, but he was missing the linchpins, the models that screamed money, power, the models that were the bosses of those salary men and casual workers, he needed a boss that the was the motherfucking boss of all bosses, for that, he needed Asami Ryuichi and his entourage.

 

So he flagged all his priorities to work on the biggest one of all, and locked himself away in his loft and got to work on the visions that plagued him, worse than being jacked up on some half baked hallucinogenic – all he could see when he closed his eyes were flashes of gold eyes in Abyss, the burning embers of cigarettes and ambition, powerful shoulders with mesmerizing angles and muscular frames.

 

He’d come up with extra designs over the weekend, from ghost sketches to fleshing them out with colors and fabrics, if he didn’t have so much shit eating at him Akihito would have called the weekend productive, and he was happy with it all until he got to the office with Feilong on the promised Monday.

 

He was on the phone all fucking day, fielding over due phone calls, re planning deadlines and generally just stressing the hell out because _Fashion Week._ Fei had come in at one point to say the appointment with Asami had been confirmed, but he’d been so up to his tits in paperwork to sign at the time that he was so distracted he hadn’t actually remembered what time the Chinese said.

 

Fuck it all, he cracked on with the next order of business, and was soon sucked back into his work too much to notice when his assistant came back in late that afternoon to say that Asami and his men were in the house...

 

 

*

 

 

“Sorry, Asami san, he’ll be with you in one moment.” The easy on the eyes longhaired assistant reappeared from down the only hallway off the front room, and dipped his head mildly in apology. “Please take a seat. Tea?”

 

“If you could.” Asami confirmed as he sat on the lounger along the wall opposite the distressed wooden desk. Kirishima and Suoh repositioned themselves either side of the couch and remained standing as Yoh appeared from parking the limo in a suitable place.   

 

If the designer intended to play the game right from the beginning and make him wait, then he’d oblige with all the patience he had.

 

His own secretary ‘tsked’ under his breath, to which Suoh chuckled and Yoh smirked because he’d heard all about it from Suoh. Normally Kirishima didn’t come to these sort of meetings, it was only Suoh or Yoh needed for initial security, however Kirshima insisted on coming this particular time to see that no insult was paid to his boss from that ‘brat of a designer who didn’t know his place’.

 

Suoh and Yoh claimed they couldn’t miss the show down, and that’s how Asami had wound up with an entourage larger than usual. It would be different from their usual group meetings if anything, so Asami had found himself looking forward to today, more than he thought if he was honest with himself.

 

Leaning back into the soft cushioned backing, Asami took in the interior to learn a little more about this odd designer with the seemingly unorthodox taste. This quaint place with painted brick walls adorned with band posters in the heart of the diverse Harajuku seemed to fit perfectly with him, upstairs from a coffee shop that played loud alternative music, the scribbled label ‘Abyss’ white on black sign was the only indication that a major fashion designer’s studio was even there.

  
No advertisements, no girls outside with flyers and their high pitched nasally calls promoting anything, just that sign that spoke for itself, there wasn’t even a contact number or opening hours. Takaba Akihito only needed his work to attract people, his shows and his clothing line, that sign was all that was necessary, because from the reports on his business Kirishima had given him, the street wear line of Abyss had given the designer a fair amount of revenue even though his running costs were high.

  
Abyss focused on keeping all jobs it created in Japan, right from when it came to his initial design down to when it hit the boutique shops. It was a noble idea, Asami had to give him that, and it gave him a popularity in the competitive Japanese fashion market, the other reason was the limited availability of his clothing. He made a set amount of each piece in each size, and once they were sold out, no matter the demand, no matter how much more money he stood to make; that was it. Asami remembered reading a particular quote from him in Japanese Vogue, ‘Abyss will never be that label that has two people at one party with the same outfit.’ He’d found himself smiling after that, because even though they dealt in different merchandise; that ideal of Akihito’s was the same as his, and if that truly was the case then he could see himself getting along with the designer rather well. Which is why he found himself here, Asami Ryuichi coming to someone else’s’ business for a meeting was unheard of, and he was even being made to _wait._

 

However a five-minute wait quickly turned into ten, which turned into twenty and he hoped that Takaba Akihito didn’t intend to push the boundaries that were only half established, there was cheeky, and then there was rude, and Asami wouldn’t say they were close enough to make the other wait half an hour, then there was the fact that no one made him wait at all, let alone this amount of time.

 

Kirishima checked his watch with an exasperated tap of his foot, and it looked like Suoh and Yoh were also growing impatient along with him, but before Asami could make the choice to leave and show Takaba who was really calling the shots, he heard the sounds of doors opening and heavy shoes thumping down the hall.

 

“No, I know there’s a deadline, I don’t give a shit, deadlines are made to be moved, so move it because you aren’t getting my line up today.” The sound of Akihito’s uncouth irritation carried down the hall before the owner of the voice appeared, all pursed brows and adorable scowls, small stomping feet and a surprisingly angry demeanor.

 

With a phone held to his ear and a stack of paperwork in the other hand, he walked distractedly up to the desk of his assistant and handed the paperwork over with the phone away from his pretty mouth and a quick order for them to be faxed off.

 

He watched Akihito roll his eyes to whatever the person on the phone was saying, watched his mouth imitate the other person with sarcastic silent words, that was until the designer went rigid and his pupils blew out to envelop his hazel irises in visible ire at something said.

 

“Oi. Listen, that’s my fucking runway allocation, I don’t give a shit who’s breathing down your throat or willing to gag on your hairless dick for it, it’s mine, and I will finalize my fucking line up when I finalize it. Are we done?”

 

With something amusing to entertain him finally; Asami basked in the view, how he’d thought of Akihito as disheveled and void of class on their first meeting he didn’t know, because even now in an [oversized grey wool knit](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/ashida91/71201534/4305/4305_900.jpg) with inside out seams that hung off his lithe frame to show a teasing tip of collarbones, even now with tight black military jeans that had pockets at the thigh and matte black combat boots that hugged his calves nicely; he still carried himself with all the poise only the gifted had.

 

It was obvious now he wasn’t playing the game just yet, he was truly busy, right now he looked like a person with too much things to do and not enough time to do it in, pressure. Some people thrived under pressure, and it looked like Takaba Akihito was one of those people. Instead of looking tired and worn down with weary eyes and slack shoulders, his hazel eyes were aglow with determination and stubborn will, his back straight and his steps full of intent.

 

The words that came out of his mouth as he beat the other person on the phone into submission were well spoken and accentuated despite the selection of vocabulary, high class sass with not a care given to what anyone thought, truly ‘giving no fucks’ as Takaba would call it.

 

The blonde leant against the desk as he dropped the phone with a sigh and a flick of his wrist, giving Asami a full view of his slim shoulders and tapering waistline, all the way down to his well-rounded ass and slender legs.

 

“I swear Fei, I am going to fucking shank the next person I have to deal with if they’re even as half as difficult a newspaper brain teaser.”

 

Before the secretary Feilong could point out who was waiting for him and had been for a while, before his own assistant Kirishima could sardonically cough out the breath of air he’d just inhaled for that reason; Asami cut them all off with a chuckle as he stood, “I’d like to see you try, Takaba Akihito.”

 

A curse under his breath whirled the designer around, where he finally noticed who was waiting for him as they locked eyes, however instead of the cheeky greeting he expected; Takaba’s demeanor shifted into something akin to formal as he bowed.

 

“Ah, sorry to keep you waiting, I hope it wasn’t long.” And Asami’s intrigue piqued yet again as he realized that the Takaba Akihito now was all business, he was talking one party owner to another, all work and no play to be seen, and it wasn’t an act, he was so serious, so committed to his work and his goals that he was truly apologetic for making Asami wait.

 

Maybe it was the lack of deception, perhaps it was the honesty in such an open apology and lowering of one’s head, the realness of it all that had him saying. “It’s no bother.” When usually it really was bothersome, when usually he’d use such a slight to his advantage and gain the upper hand.

 

“Ah, thank fuck for that.” and with one of his long fingered hands sighed and ran it through his wild blonde hair.

 

Or maybe it was the fact it was Takaba Akihito, another part of him voiced in the back of his head.

 

Kirishima was clearly speechless at the change of attitude, his mouth dropped for an instant to cut off whatever no doubt chiding remark he was going to make, Suoh and Yoh watched their colleague’s reaction with their own amusement barely hidden.

 

And then, the business façade slipped when Takaba’s face lit up as his hazel pair of eyes trailed across the room to land on Yoh with assessing scrutiny, calculating up and down before the designer stepped forward, “You’ll do very nicely too, I think.” He said to no one in particular. “Asami, if you’d come with me, we can get down to business. Your men too.”

 

“Very well.” Asami drawled as he made to follow, he wasn’t sure what the designer was playing at now, though he knew he was playing at something, but he’d be surprised if he needed his men there for whatever it was.  

 

Then again, the designer hadn’t failed to surprise him yet.

 


	11. Killing with a Smile

This was either the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning for Takaba Akihito and his label, Abyss, and damn it, he did indeed have a lot of fucks to give right now. In fact, he’d been saving them all for this occasion, he needed them more right now than he needed a lint roller when wearing a black shirt, which was fucking essential by the way.

 

He only had one plan, one option, and he _needed_ it to work, or he’d be royally screwed up the ass, dry, with a broom handle. Ugh, no thanks.

 

He could feel his stupid nice, happy, normal person mask edging its way into his demeanor, cos when you wanted something, you had to play it nice to get it, right? No point in going full-fledged asshole just yet. Nerves and his temper in particular weren’t the best combination, so he had to play it as cool as the cucumber and mint water he had in the fridge, maybe afterwards he’d have to add copious amounts of vodka to drown himself in his epic failure at life.

 

So all he could hope as he led that handsome face that he’d definitely like to fuck and his three smoking hot musketeers down the hall to his design room, was that the plan he and Fei had come up with over the weekend would be enough. Akihito had always been confident enough in his work to be able to win people over, but of course with a group like Asami and his men, something like that would be the last of their concerns, and fucking hell he hated people who could pull that off.

 

He had half of what he wanted at a huge cost already, a price he’d rather not pay if he were honest, sure, Asami would wear his suits to those snooty functions that everyone went to, to flaunt their fake power and useless money, but Akihito _really_ didn’t want to have to tag along. Fuck, how many social events did that guy go to anyway? Not to mention he had to custom make those suits himself, not that he didn’t mind putting in the effort for something like that, he’d fucking love to swathe Asamin in Abyss as often as he could, but there was this little thing called time that he didn’t exactly have. Man, he’d really put himself up shit creek with this one.

 

Akihito could see sleep deprivation in his near future, and a fuck ton of caffeine to beat that shit into submission. Oh well, he could put up with hard slogging if it meant getting what he really needed. Fei would just have to put up with the grumpy bum he’d inevitably become, and the best thing about Fei was that he’d do just exactly that. What he’d do without Fei, Akihito didn’t actually know.

 

Now though, it was time to see if the weekend’s worth of planning and designing was all for naught. He’d led them to his design cave where custom orders and runway pieces were all made by himself, mock ups for new ideas all came to life here, concepts were solidified before the final designs were sent to his small factory that Kou and Takato ran with a small team on the outskirts of the city.

 

His life might have been in permanent disarray, just like his hair, but everything in this room was always where he needed it to be. Design boards with sketches pinned in order of priority lined the walls of the room, bolts of fabric stored away in their racks according to color and texture, sewing benches with all the counter space he needed framed the room, adjustable mannequins stood ready and waiting next to those sewing stations. In the middle of this paradise was a concrete island bench that he used to measure fabric and cut cloth, he’d sit at that bench for hours on end on his wobbly stool staring at blank paper, or put a mannequin smack bang in the middle of it and look at a piece a and scrape his fucking brain in wonder at what was missing.

 

Akihito didn’t often have visitors in this room, but he was pinning everything on the fact that he’d get this damn deal and be able to take measurements as soon as everything got the go ahead, no risk, no reward, he could risk letting strangers into his sanctuary this one time.

 

He gave the men the final once over as he bid them one by one into the room before him. In went the tall body guard, Suoh, the strong silent and secretly boss as fuck type, he had ‘don’t fuck with me’ emblazoned in his very demeanor. Then there was Yoh, the one he’d just had the delightful pleasure of laying eyes on, he had the grace of an actual ninja, and hair straight out of a men’s runway mag and the swag suit to go with it, truthfully, Akihito would be happy just to get this guy, cos fashion on a stick he was fucking smokin’.

 

Then came Kirishima, and his suit fit perfectly today, just like the other two, he knew why it fit better today too, but it still didn’t stop the ceremonial itch in his fingers that wanted to fix the tie because it was still a dime too tight. This fucking Glasses Guy, he oozed sophistication and everything Akihito would never have, he reeked of class and intelligence so much it was almost disgusting, even looking at him was his face rubbed in it. Lucky he was handsome under the glasses to boot, he was exactly what he needed, so Akihito would keep his mouth zipped, for now.

 

Then came his centerpiece, Asami Ryuichi. He was all of the above and then some, the embodiment of swagger, the best fucking thing since skinny jeans and hair straighteners, he’d say it once and he would say it again, he was drop dead gorgeous.

 

Fuck, Akihito wanted this alright, wanted this and then some.

 

So he followed them in after leaving the door open, because Feilong had been insistent that Akihito leave the door open so he could eavesdrop on the conversation while he got other work done. Akihito could give him that much for being the one who got this idea rolling in the first place.

 

So it was now or nothing, Asami, as he fucking would, sat on the only stool at the island bench, leaving the three flanking him like this was some gangster business exchange and guns were gonna be pulled any second. It was a little bit exciting, because Akihito knew it wasn’t too far fetched for these people, and that’s what he was going to play on and hope like hell it was going to go in his favor.

 

So like the loner he was always labeled, Akihito took up a spot on the opposite site where he had ‘unofficial’ paper work already waiting. It was quiet in the room today, the café downstairs wasn’t playing any alternative music to take the edge off, and the sound the pages made when they hissed as he slid them across the top of the workbench was audible to all.

 

Akihito chose not to say anything, because no doubt he’d end up saying something unfiltered and sarcastic to cover up this rare moment of nervousness, everyone looked on as Asami acknowledged the paperwork in front of him with only a moderate amount of interest.

 

Asami was smart, there was nothing on there that gave Akihito’s offer away, but to someone as unconsciously smart as Asami it would be as obvious as a black stain on a white jacket.

 

“Ho?” and those oh so _perfect_ -fucking lips turned up in a tease of a smirk, and Akihito knew then and there that Asami understood. Thank fucking Gucci for that.

 

“You know what you’re getting yourself into, Takaba Akihito?” came the amused drawl as Asami handed the paper work back to Kirishima, who assessed it with less enthusiasm than what Asami had.

 

“Suits and guns are the perfect combo, yeah?” Akihito put in, trying to be as smooth as he could to hide his rapidly beating heart, because he’d just jumped off the deep end into a completely different world now, especially if Asami agreed.

 

“What do you want in return?” Asami leant forward now, hawk eyes piercing, all hint of playfulness gone, the room traitorously cold, his men behind him suddenly more alert than they should be in a damn sewing room. The sweat on the small of his back was unsympathetic.

 

Akihito had rehearsed what he was going to say right at this moment a million times, but those words were now gone, and so he racked his brain for something feasible today. He was asking for a lot, but he was also risking a lot. With an exhale, and a calming inhale, Akihito laid it down without one waver of his voice. “I want what I asked for, I want you, _and_ the men behind you to front my label on the runway, I want you to sit in the studio and do as I say for photos, in return you can have use of everything on that list.”

 

There, he said it. He’d offered to go into fucking business with Asami Ryuichi, he’d offered the use of his own shipping routes, the routes he used to transport fucking _clothing_ not guns, but maybe guns too now.

 

He thought maybe Asami might end up going away to mull it over, he thought he might get a ‘no’ right off the bat, because what if what Akihito was offering wasn’t really that good? He was offering routes to places where Asami didn’t have trade already, or so Fei had said, the shoe fucking fit. It was perfect.

 

Thank the Gods of runway; it was. Before Glasses Guy could protest behind Asami, his breath half drawn to say something that Akihito would no doubt find quite irritating, Asami cut in with a raised hand, like he knew what Kirishima would say before he even thought it, and said:

 

“We have a deal.”

 

*

 

 

“Strip.” Akihito ordered, the nerves were gone, replaced by the sweet, _sweet_ taste of victory, because of course with the deal made it meant he needed to get measurements! He’d already decided to save Asami until last, and of course Kirishima was first. Akihito ignored the protest that Kirishima could have his measurements sent by his own tailor, Akihito would have none of that shit. “Strip. I’m not taking the measurements above the fabric, we’re all men here, get your kit off mate.”

 

Behind him, Asami sat on the stool with a twinkle in his eye, and an amazingly straight face otherwise, the two behind him though, the big safety beef and the security ninja, they weren’t hiding their amusement as well. Yoh had this wicked smirk on his lip, and Suoh couldn’t smother his quiet chuckles.

 

And trust Kirishima to not back down from a challenge after all, one article of clothing after another, with methodical care; he took it off, and Akihito was right, there were no guns under his jacket today as there must have been on the day he first met him.

 

Akihito took an appraising step back once the secretary was down to his boxer briefs; today was indeed a good day. He set to work, careless of his cold tape measure and his equally cold hands. They wouldn’t be cold soon, Akihito was gonna make sure of that.

 

There wasn’t a shred of body fat, only smooth muscle big enough to full those briefs out perfectly in the butt, and what a booty it was. That guy definitely didn’t skip the squats. That’s where he started, not bothering to make it seem anything less than a grope.

 

With practiced hands he slid the tap around the man’s waist, sliding his hand across Kirishima’s ass as he did so, humming loud enough for the owner of said butt to hear. “Too hot.” Akihito said off handedly, not expecting any one to get the reference.

 

He got more than he expected though, because then came “hot damn” from Yoh, intent on adding to his colleague’s unfortunate situation.

 

Oh, this was fucking perfect alright.

 

Asami looked on while Akihito slowly rendered Kirishima’s cheeks pink with a caress on the inside of his leg here, a splayed hand on his impressive chest there, and careless fingers brushing over abs again and again. The man really was a stunner, and because Akihito’s filter was pretty much gone at this point, he ended up saying that last thought out loud. Whoops.

 

There was a split second stutter, a deepened hue of pink on those cheeks, and then it was replaced by a down right devious glimmer behind the lens of Kirishima’s glasses, the taller secretary leant down, stroked Akihito’s cheek with a gentle thumb, and said “Sorry, sweetheart, you’re not my type.”

 

The room fucking exploded, Yoh burst into hoots of laughter, slapping the bench because Akihito would think it was funny too if it hadn’t happened to him, that fucking Glasses Guy. Suoh was doing no better at containing himself, and Asami allowed himself a quiet snicker as he gave Kirishima an appraising nod.

 

Assholes, the whole lot of them.

 

Pleased as fucking punch, Kirishima got dressed slowly, his poker face back on, and the scores back to zero.

 

 

*

 

Suoh was next, and unsurprisingly he had a gun holster underneath his suit jacket today, he took it off with care before he moved onto his shirt and the rest of his clothes, and even with it all off he was larger than life, he gave Akihito a cocky flex of his bicep that Akihito took full advantage of, this guy was serious fun, despite his intimidating appearances.

 

Once again Asami just sat and watched, his gaze hot, his expression unreadable, patient for his turn.

 

This was like his Christmases all come at once, and he made sure to appreciate the safety beef in full before moving on to Yoh.

 

Yoh and his recent laughter that was now a memory on the wind, was another story altogether, Yoh, who slung his jacket off with eyes locked on Akihito the entire time, even as he placed his weapons gently on the counter beside him to continue stripping.

 

His movements were graceful, hypnotizing even, and so was his smoking hot body underneath it all. Yoh stood there in near naked glory, as dangerous as a coiled snake, with scars crisscrossing his ribs that were no doubt meant to have taken his life.

 

He was quiet as Akihito approached, and for the first time in this encounter Akihito didn’t feel %100 safe. Looking at Yoh was like looking at something wild. You wanted to touch, but at the first movement you’d be sure to whip your hand back as fast as you could.

 

So he took care, measured with gentle touches, not being able to stop his fingers from tracing scars as he found them. He could feel Yoh’s eyes on him the entire time, feel the warm body lean into his hand, Akihito looked up at that, finding a now playful grin that said _‘just kidding’_ and in the end all Akihito could do was laugh.

 

It didn’t stop Yoh from leaning into the touches though, didn’t stop him from inching closer as Akihito wound the tape about his hips, this guy was seriously suave.

 

“You’re punching above your weight, Yoh.” Came the drawl from behind, amusement tinged with a little something else.

 

Fuck, Akihito had gotten so caught up in this guy that he had actually managed to forget all about Asami for a split second. Yoh didn’t even bother to look at his boss, his grin simply widened, “Can’t help liking what I see, Asami sama.” And he fucking _winked_ as he stepped back to put his clothes on. He’d been winding his boss up, playing along with Akihito to get a reaction, and it’d bloody worked.

 

Asami was drumming his slender fingers on the worktop bench, the tiny display exposing his growing impatience. Before Yoh had shrugged his jacket back on, Asami was up, his eyes telling of the bad things that were about to happen, bad things that were actually probably good things to Akihito.

 

On some unspoken order, Kirishima, Suoh and Yoh made their way to the door, an ensemble of business once more as Asami said that he’d make his own way back. Akihito felt the temperature of his blood rise a few degrees at that, and before he let things get too out of control, because he wasn’t fucking stupid, he knew that’s what was going to happen, he bid Asami through the only other door in the room, it led into his office.

 

As keen as he was for this, and he was damn keen, he still wasn’t going to desecrate his design space with sex. His office was a better place for it. Better yet his desk.

 

Asami and all his drop dead gorgeous grandeur took it in stride, he walked to the center of the room like he owned the place, like he owned the entire damn world, he took one look around at the white brick painted walls, his cluttered desk and the chair behind it that was no where near the size of the one Asami had at his office.

 

All that only took a split second, not nearly long enough for Akihito to gather his wits, he could gather thread faster than that at the moment, because this man was really in his office right now, and Akihito really had a tape measure to put to him.

 

Of course Asami wouldn’t make it that easy though, he should have bloody known. Asami turned, his eyes ablaze with all the heat that Akihito felt, “Undress me.” He challenged, his voice edged with danger and authority, with excitement and daring invitation.

 

With those words Akihito knew this was not going to be like the previous measurements he’d just done, far fucking from it.

 


	12. You're Cute When You Scream

Akihito stood, an inch away from dumb struck, not knowing where to start, the tape measure in his hands momentarily forgotten.

 

Asami simply looked back at him, his eyes smoldering and his mouth curved in a playful line that screamed confidence and swagger and _fuck,_ Akihito wanted to kiss those things right off those perfect fucking lips. “Something the matter?” Asami teased after a time, the fire in his eyes flaring as he did so.

 

That was enough to spark Akihito out of his inaction; enough for him to set down his measuring tape and step forward, because this was his domain and Asami was his prize, which he circled in slow steps. The heat in Akihito’s veins grew, his pulse quickening as tension settled in.

 

Asami remained impassive, with his stupidly handsome face and perfect hair, his broad shoulders and powerful legs flawlessly proportioned for wearing suits, or for not wearing anything at all, fuck, this guy really was the crème de la crème. “Quite the opposite.” Akihito drawled back as he came to Asami’s chest once more.

 

All he got back was a deep chuckle, wicked and self-assured, because who fucking wouldn’t be when you looked like that? Akihito hadn’t even taken one piece of clothing off Asami and he was already this overwhelmed, oh yeah, this was not going to be like any set of measurements he’d taken at all. And Akihito was fucking excited for it.

 

And so with methodical movements, Akihito reached out for Asami’s tie to yank on the knot with a finger curled under the silken fabric, bringing Asami’s face inches away from his as he did so, and it was already so fucking tempting to smash his mouth against the one currently smirking back at him, “You play a dangerous game, Akihito.” Came the hot drawl only a breath from his own lips. “You just went from simple designer to arms trafficker in the space of an afternoon.” It was provocative and baiting, but Akihito ignored him nonetheless as he slid the tie out from under Asami’s collar and let it fall to the floor. Fuck hanging it up, he didn’t have time for that shit right now.

 

“Don’t you remember me saying,” Akihito finally chose to counter as he splayed his hand against Asami’s chest, dug his fingers into the rich woolen jacket and pushed Asami upright to start at the buttons, slow and measured still. “That I always get what I want?”

 

If Asami’s eyes were smoldering before, now they were fucking blazing, just like Akihito’s body as he took Asami out of his jacket one arm at a time to reveal his holsters underneath with deadly weapons cradled in them.

 

“Fuck.” He couldn’t help whispering as he took in the view, Asami standing there with those holsters strapped around his shoulders, his collar messy and tieless, was fucking the epitome of everything he’d been looking for. He was the sort of handsome that tied your tongue and turned you into a complete goober, the sort of inhumanly attractive that had men and women alike looking at him, the sort of person that oozed power and danger just fucking standing there as he was now. “Fuck.” Was all he managed again.

 

“Having second thoughts are we?” Asami leant down to whisper in his ear, every word dripping with triumph and antagonism, that sexy, arrogant bastard.

 

Much sooner than he thought he would, Akihito snapped and gave in to Asami’s proximity.

 

“Never!”

 

Oh, he should have snapped sooner, because ripping at the buttons to Asami’s shirt and feeling the smooth skin and muscled chest underneath was glorious, smashing their mouths together and tasting Asami’s tongue on his was a sure fire way for him to really ignite.

 

Asami gave him no quarter though; in a split second he’d pushed Akihito against his desk with a growl to replicate what first happened in Asami’s office.

 

Except this time Asami’s teeth were nipping at his throat, his hands up his shirt, circling at his nipples as he rolled his hips in an noticeable display of his own excitement. “You’re an ambitious one, I like that.” Asami rasped as he slowed the pace down, laving at Akihito’s pulse. And then Asami brought everything to a standstill to tease Akihito with that heated remark. He wasn’t done playing yet.

 

Of course Akihito could still play this game though, it was easy as he wound his legs around Asami’s hips and locked himself in place, he raked his nails along Asami’s taut abs and reeled as Asami shuddered with unadulterated delight, he sent his fingers down underneath Asami’s beltline to tease the heaven sent muscled V at his waist and basked in the sound of Asami groaning in his ear. He could feel Asami coiling tight with his own restraint, nothing was more fun than making someone else snap too.

 

“Oh?” with momentous will power he managed to push Asami away, every inch of him fucking screaming to keep the man close, instead he managed to lead the silent predator stalking him around to his office chair, to push him back and spread his shirt open even more to display that smokin’ hot body for the full appreciation it deserved.

 

Akihito kicked off his boots before leaning back on his desk, feeling Asami practically rip his clothes off with his eyes alone, for once Akihito wouldn’t mind if they got wrecked, not at all.

 

“So you’re saying.” Akihito began as he palmed the front of his jeans, spreading his legs to give Asami the show he was visually devouring. “That I did bring enough to the table?” with that Akihito popped his belt, slid his pants down with an slow and hella sumptuous roll of his hips back off the desk, and he could see Asami’s chest heaving, could see the restraint in his eyes even as he enjoyed the show, his jaw clenched and his knuckles white, Akihito could fucking smell the want. “Or do you still need convincing?”

 

“Convince me a little more.” Came the husky command that Akihito wanted nothing more than to obey. Asami’s grin was downright feral as Akihito did just that, as he moved off from his desk and straddled Asami’s lap in nothing but his oversized sweater and briefs. The manic thrill oozing from Asami was palpable, everything about him right now was fucking wild, a far cry from the refined ideals of sophisticated suits and ties that everyone paired him with.

 

“The thing is, Asami.” Akihito whispered as he leaned in tantalizingly close, close enough to feel his fervor, to rut shamelessly against Asami’ firm body and whine at the teasing friction, “Everyone wants you for something, money, or social standing, for fame or money, but me?” he sat back on his hips then, rocking his ass against the satisfying bulge in Asami’s pants, and the responding growl that came with it was nearly enough to have Akihito coming on the spot. “Me, I just want your body, and, unlike everyone else, I’m _more_ than happy to admit that. If that’s not convincing… then I don’t know what is.” with his last line; Akihito made fucking sure to convince him.

 

In deliberate movements Akihito thumbed the front of his briefs down, settling them low on his hips to free his extremely hard and oh so neglected dick. “Do you know how many times I’ve jacked off about you since we met?” Akihito challenged as he took himself in his hand, watching Asami’s breath catch in his throat as he did so.

 

“You owe me for all those lonely moments.” Akihito whispered against Asami’s lips as he deliberately rolled his hips into his hand, and fuck this was going to be way too fast, because Asami was right there, and just _watching_ him like this was satisfying enough. A moan bubbled up from his throat as he rut into his hand, the spectacle he was making of himself only served to make it so much hotter, and Akihito was all set to keep going because this was the sort of kinky shit that wet dreams were made of.

 

Before he could finish himself off though, could stroke himself shamelessly and finish all over Asami’s chest; Asami himself took charge.

 

“I always pay my debts, Akihito, this one gladly.” Asami whispered sonorously as he shoved Akihito back onto the desk again, as he pushed Akihto’s shirt up and sucked on his flesh all the way down, nibbling at his hips and pinning him until all Akihito could do was gasp in growing desperation.

 

And then Asami’s mouth was on his dick, taking it all the way in with sweeps of his god given tongue and mind blowing passes of his lips, the only thing Akihito was capable of then was arching off the desk, burying his hands in Asami’s hair to hold on to reality as Asami tried to take him to a place he’d never fucking been before.

 

“Oh, f-fuck, yes.” And he was whimpering like something in heat now, he didn’t give a damn shit, not when he was feeling this good. Strong, calloused hands ripped at his briefs, starved of the flesh underneath, and then his thighs were gripped in absolute control, pushed apart until he was spread on his desk like some sacrificial piece of meat he would gladly fucking be.

 

Objects were pushed off his desk in the hormone crazed carnage, flung aside and Akihito hoped they fucking broke for getting in the way right now. A hard desk had never been so fucking comfortable in his life, and he’d been on a few desks.

 

Whether Asami found the supply of lube in his draws or brought his own, Akihito didn’t fucking know and didn’t fucking care, all he could do was _scream_ as those perfect wet fingers teased at his entrance, around and around as he got closer and closer. “Don’t you dare fucking stop now.” Akihito cursed as those magic fingers stilled, as Asami’s mouth left his dick just seconds away from bliss, aching with need.

 

Asami was panting at his throat then, hoarse and labored like he’d already had his fair share of fucking. “Akihito.” Came his name, it rolled off that tongue, perfect, full of intimate infliction and unbridled, filthy lust. Cold goosebumps tickled his skin as Asami whispered again. “I’m more than convinced.”

 

And then Asami’s fingers thrust inside him with the strength of his whole arm, rough, violent, magnificent and buried themselves knuckle deep to _curl_ at the spot that had Akihito seeing stars, that had him rutting back onto those fingers and moaning as he came all over himself instead. And Asami drank back his moans, kissed his mouth like Akihito was the first sip of salvation for a thirsting man.

 

If Akihito thought he couldn’t get more excited, he thought that might actually be impossible because wet dreams were already coming true, then he was wrong. The metallic clang of Asami’s belt undoing was like a euphoric hit of some A-class drug, except this one, Akihito thought, might be much more addicting.

 

 

*

 

 

Asami reeled as his _own_ control slipped through his fingers, as Akihito’s supple body with utterly perfect skin curved off the desk, his back bent at a divine angle, his body pleading, and Asami was the one giving him deliverance with nothing but his fingers.

 

There was a certain satisfaction in stripping someone of their inhibitions and decency, of whittling it away bit by bit until they didn’t recognize themselves. There was even greater satisfaction, he realized, in playing with someone who was already debauched and free of all their morality, because that meant no holding back.

 

It was human nature to feel guilty for feeling good, but as Asami looked down at this _thing_ , breath taking, writhing with _his_ fingers deep inside, demanding for Asami to just “fuck me already.” It was easy to see Akihito had not a shred of those principals.

 

This was a person that _deserved_ to be fucked, and Asami was more than willing to oblige and giving him everything he was owed, oh yes, he was willing to embrace that side of himself that rolled Akihito over on the desk and held him down face first against the hard surface, the side of himself that snarled with pleasure as Akihito _moaned_ at his own man handling like he _wanted_ to be objectified.

 

The high that came as he finally buried his dick inch by inch into Akihito’s heat was almost cataclysmic, that indecent body rocked back against his dick in need, clenched around him with mind-blowing pressure that stole Asami’s breath, and so Asami moved.

 

He’d never fucked anyone quite this hard, he’d never wanted to, because there was something so thrilling at hearing his name the way Akihito said it, he’d never lost himself in his own name, but here Akihito was chanting it again and again like it was some exalting prayer and _Asami_ was god.

 

The lewd sound of flesh on flesh echoed underneath Akihito’s lament as Asami pulled out and plunged in with rough snaps of his hips, and still Akihito asked for more, harder, deeper, faster. He was the most needy thing that Asami had ever had the delight in fucking.

 

Pressure rose in his blood, in his veins as the high spread throughout his body, as Akihito’s gloriously tight hole took him again and again, until it was too good, too much, until it was Asami coming with a rumble of pleasure deep in his chest and stammering thrusts of his hips.

 

Akihito came into his awareness then, whining with frustration, with his dick in his hand to finish himself off, the tugs desperate and unmeasured, so Asami answered it all with one last balls deep grind of his hips, and then Akihito truly came undone. He keened against the desk, sweat on his brow and rapture in his eyes as he fell apart with blissed abandon.

Truly, Asami had never found anyone so physically compatible.

And it was then that Asami knew he absolutely must have this part of Akihito all to himself.

 

 


End file.
